Red Shoes
by alien09
Summary: Nominated for 2009 NCIS Fanfiction Award! Please see inside for Author's Note. Ensemble with NCIS. Canon couples.
1. Chapter 1

It's the names of all the foster homes he's been in

**a/n: one-shot written by sleep-deprived author. set after season 2 finale. enjoy.**

_It's the names of all the foster homes he's been in._

Brennan could still remember with vivid detail the names she had scrawled on the bottom of her shoe. They had been a pair of worn red Converse sneakers which she had refused to part with when she had been shunted from home to home. She had learnt early on to only keep the bare essentials with her, but those shoes had been the sole indulgence she had allowed herself to develop.

The low hum of the diner filled the air around her as she took a small sip from the now tepid cup of coffee in front of her. Angela had sent her questioning glances when she had suddenly departed for a late lunch, all of which Brennan had resolutely ignored. Staring down at the letter in front of her, Brennan stood resolutely. Placing the money needed to cover her meal on the table she made her way out onto the sidewalk, eyes scanning for a free cab.

'Bones! There you are.' Closing her eyes, Brennan instinctively hunched her shoulders as her fingers tightened on the envelope she had in her hand.

'What is it Booth? Do we have a case?'

'No,' Booth said slowly, eyes narrowing at the tired tone in his partner's voice. 'What's wrong with you?'

'Nothing is _wrong _with me,' Brennan insisted, trying desperately to think of a way to shake Booth of. 'If it's not urgent, I have an appointment I need to keep.'

'With who?'

'Someone,' Brennan replied evasively, flagging down an empty cab. 'I'll be at the Jeffersonian in a few hours, Booth. I'll see you then.'

Hurriedly opening the door, Brennan gave the driver an address. Hearing the door slam shut, she sighed in exasperation when she saw Booth seated beside her. Seeing the determined expression on his face, Brennan conceded defeat. Aside from the angry yells emanating from the driver's side, the two passengers at the back maintained a silent vigil.

Leaning her head against the window, Brennan squeezed her eyes shut as she recalled the contents of the letter she had received the other day. Thomas Newman had been the one constant in her life after her parents had left. Angry and mourning the loss of the family she had once had, Brennan had lashed out at everyone months after Russ had left her. Thomas had endured her spats of rebellion, from her blue hair to the times she had arrived from yet another home with her garbage bag in hand, retorts that she was 'too difficult' following in her wake. He had been her rock as the list on the bottom of her shoe had grown longer, an anchoring presence that she had needed to latch onto and chart a new course.

Paying the fare, she saw Booth glance uneasily at the giant plaque mounted on the wall that said 'Child Services'.

'I didn't ask you to come with me. You can leave if you want.' Despite the indifferent tone, some small part of Brennan cried out for him to stay.

Seeing the shuttered expression on Brennan's face, Booth wrapped an arm around her shoulder. Since Zach had left for Iraq, Booth had seen less and less of Brennan. The times he had attempted to reach out to her, she had disappeared behind a cool mask of professionalism. He had almost torn his hair out in frustration. Temperance Brennan was not an easy person to get along with at the best of times, but her persistence in locking him out was beginning to wear on his nerves. The call from Angela earlier had been all the impetus he needed.

'I'm here to collect a few things from Thomas Newman's office,' Brennan said, handing the receptionist the official note Thomas had left for her. Palming the visitor badges from the somber woman, she saw Booth pin his to his lapel. Brennan was surprised he was here at all.

She knew that she possessed - what were the words Angela had used? – the emotional span of a teaspoon when it came to matters of the heart, but she had found herself blaming Booth for allowing Zach to leave. It was irrational, when she reflected upon it, but knowing that an integral part of her patchwork family was stuck in a war identifying remains that would leave him sucking in deep drafts of air from nightmares that would never leave haunted her. Brennan had needed a villain, and Booth had been the easiest option with his talk of Zach needing to leave the nest, become a man.

Stopping outside the door, Brennan paused for a moment before wrenching it open. Booth hovered behind her as she took in the small alcove Thomas had made his own. She remembered the sports memorabilia he had kept stubbornly tacked on his walls, the never-ending stack of files and papers that always seemed to be on his desk. Tracing a finger along his desk, Brennan recalled the days when Thomas had yelled at her, had chastised her, had encouraged her.

'Thomas was my social worker when I got put into foster care,' Brennan started, feeling the sudden impulse to share the relationship she had had with this man with someone. 'Usually you get bumped around when they realize you're a problem child, but Thomas refused to let me go.'

'Problem child?' Booth asked inquiringly, taking in the absent gaze that Brennan was giving him.

'I couldn't accept the fact that my family had deserted me,' Brennan replied, smiling thinly.

I…wasn't the most considerate child. Foster families prefer young children or babies. It's difficult finding a home for a teenager, let alone one that seemed intent on making your life a living hell. But Thomas…' Brennan was horrified to hear her voice crack. 'Thomas was always there for me. He told me that I was an idiot, that I was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen and that he wanted me to realize that before I decided to keep acting like a hellion.'

Tears were now streaming down her face, the now bare walls of the room becoming blurred. She felt Booth's arm come around her and she grabbed fistfuls of his coat, her sobs muted as she pressed her face into his shoulder.

'He's gone Booth. _Why did he have to go too_?'

Booth held onto Brennan's shuddering frame, running his fingers soothingly up and down her back as he guessed that Thomas had passed away.

'Shhh. Hey Bones, look at me,' Booth said, tracing a thumb across her cheek and lifting her face up. Her eyes were red rimmed and puffy, the whites of her eyes stained a slight pink from her tears. 'Thomas isn't gone, okay?'

'I was at his funeral Booth. They put him into the ground.'

'Why didn't you ask me to come with you?' Booth asked, hurt, before kicking himself internally. _Of all the stupid things to say Seeley…_

'I'm sorry, but I haven't been treating you very well these past few weeks and I didn't…' Brennan trailed off contritely.

'I still would have come with you Bones. I mean, it hasn't been nice that you've been trying your hardest to shut me out but I would have been there for you if you had just asked,' Booth whispered, arms still around her.

_I'll be there for you even when you don't._

Brennan stared at him, seeing the concern and…something else she couldn't quite decipher underlining the expression on his face. Her fingers tightened automatically on his coat, as if her heart and mind were subconsciously united for once.

Booth had always been there for her. He had risked his job when he had come down to New Orleans and retrieved her mother's earring. He had dragged her out of the sand when she had been buried alive. He had been there when she had thought Russ was dead and when her father had decided to barbeque his victims as a warning.

'Thank you Booth,' Brennan said almost reverently and relaxed her grip at Booth's answering smile. Something warm settled inside her when Booth tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Forcing herself away, Brennan inched towards the shoe box that lay undisturbed on Thomas' desk. Lifting the lid, she gazed unblinking at the pair of red shoes nestled inside. She turned one of the soles and saw the untidy cursive scrawl at the bottom.

'Are those the shoes that you told me about?' Booth asked her tentatively. His hand rested on the small of her back and Brennan could feel his fingers through the thickness of her coat and shirt.

'Yes,' Brennan answered, trailing her eyes down the names she had written. The Evans, the Conroys, the Hiedlemans, the Jespers…

'When my grandfather came to get me, I gave Thomas these shoes. It was a symbol, a way of telling him that he had helped me find my way I suppose,' Brennan told him.

'He would have been proud Bones.' Booth said it in such a definitive way, his tone brooking no argument. Brennan struggled to stop a fresh round of tears from appearing. Hugging the box to her chest, Brennan let Booth lead her back.

She remembered how Thomas had smiled at her, his face stretched wide and filled with something like pride, when she had given him those red Chucks. He had placed a kiss on her forehead and told her never to forget him when she became rich and famous. She hadn't. Brennan had made sure to be at his doorstep every birthday, had made sure to write him a reply for every letter he sent, made sure to send him something from every country she visited.

'Earth to Bones?' Booth's voice broke her out of her reverie and she was surprised to find herself in front of the door to her apartment.

'I _am _on earth Booth,' Brennan replied. 'Why aren't we at the Jeffersonian? I need to get back to-'

'I'll explain things to Cam. _You _need to go inside, drink some wine and go to bed,' Booth ordered, pointing a finger at the door. 'I'll be by later to check up on you.'

Booth saw Brennan's features soften when he finished his tirade. Waiting until she had unlocked the door, and thankful she had not put up her usual resistance to his alpha male leanings, Booth called out to her before she closed the door.

'Hey Bones?' Seeing the expectant look on her face, tear tracks still visible, Booth screwed up his courage and plowed ahead. 'Thomas was right. You're still the most beautiful girl I've ever seen.'

Pulling the door firmly shut, he waited until the lock clicked into place before he walked away. He hadn't expected a response from her anyways. It was just something that needed to be said.

_I'm proud of you Temperance. So very proud._


	2. Chapter 2

Booth fidgeted, seeing Brennan on the platform

Booth fidgeted, seeing Brennan on the platform. She was bent over a pile of bones, her brow furrowing the way it did whenever she was concentrating. He noticed that her nose wrinkled a bit whenever she did that, and he always caught himself thinking that she looked adorable.

It had been a few days since he had last seen her and while he was grateful of the paperwork that he had managed to sweep out of the way, he had often found his mind wandering towards the Jeffersonian.

'Hey Bones,' he called out, swiping his card as he jogged up the steps. Brennan offered a noise of acknowledgement deep in her throat, but otherwise kept her attention focused on the skeleton. Booth eyed the rusty arrowhead and metal helmet nearby, letting out a whistle.

'Another Bronze Age warrior?' He enquired, genuinely curious. When Brennan offered no reply, Booth tried again. 'Bones?'

'_What _Booth?' Brennan finally answered, her head snapping up and her eyes flashing angrily. Resisting the urge to take a step back, Booth raised an eyebrow.

'Your partner, who you haven't seen in days, says hello and you don't say _anything_?'

'Who I haven't seen or heard from in days,' Brennan stated, her tone icy. 'And hello.'

Maybe he should have called her. After all, no woman liked being completely and utterly ignored when a man told her she was beautiful. But Booth had been, he would admit, a _tiny _bit afraid that she would tell him that they were partners, and that that statement had been entirely unprofessional…

'Are you mad at me?'

'No,' Brennan bit out, focusing her magnifier over a phalange.

'Well, your tone says otherwise,' Booth pressed.

'I am not mad at you Booth,' Brennan replied, releasing a sigh. 'Now? Is there a reason you're here interrupting the work I am actually paid to do?'

Booth paused, studying her features. He noticed the deep circles under her eyes, the fact that her cheekbones were slightly more pronounced.

'You haven't been eating,' Booth said.

'According to you, I never eat properly,' Brennan responded, a small smile tugging at her lips. 'But I assure you I've consumed enough food to be considered adequate by your standards.'

'You haven't been sleeping either.'

'I've been working on the backlog of Limbo cases. The Board has been on my file to get these remains identified. I've simply had time to do them since the FBI do not require my expertise.'

'Case, Bones. Case,' Booth corrected her automatically. 'And you're lying. Your nostrils flare a little when you do.'

Brennan started, her eyes wide. 'They do not!'

'C'mon Bones!' Booth burst out. 'You look well…' He struggled for a way to put this diplomatically. 'You look…not very nice?'

'Thank you for your concern Booth,' Brennan told him, a touch dryly. 'But I assure you that it is unwarranted.'

'Okay then,' Booth said, narrowing his eyes. 'I'm going to sit here on this stool until you tell me what's wrong.'

'For the last time-' Brennan's raised voice was cut off by Cam.

'Dr. Brennan? There's a Miguel Guerra here to see you.'

Booth saw the way Brennan's face tightened, saw the way her teeth worried her bottom lip. The forensic anthropologist rarely ever let her emotions show through this clearly.

'Could you tell him that I'm-'

'Hola Hermosa,' a rough, deep voice said. Booth followed Brennan's gaze to a tall, handsome Hispanic man. He was dressed in jeans and a hoodie, and Booth saw the start of a tattoo on his neck. Straightening his spine, and taking note of the distress on Brennan's features, Booth placed himself in front of her and spoke directly to the man.

'Can we help you?' He spoke in what he knew was his most intimidating tenor.

'It's alright Booth,' Brennan said, placing a restraining hand on his shoulder. 'Let's go to my office.'

Following behind Miguel and Brennan, Booth noted that his partner made sure to keep a healthy distance away from the man. Feeling the first coils of distrust take root, Booth did not hesitate in making his way into her office with them. Miguel eyed him with something akin to wariness, and Booth was surprised, but happy, to see that Brennan had not demanded that he leave.

An awkward silence descended on the trio as Booth watched Brennan and Miguel avoid each other's eyes. He restrained the urge to order Miguel to state his relation to Brennan.

'I tried calling you,' Miguel started.

'I know.' Brennan's voice was curt, sharp.

'I came to apologize Hermosa.'

'My name is Dr. Brennan,' she told him. 'You…lost the right to call me that name when you left.'

Booth's heart hammered in his chest as he stepped nearer towards Brennan, his shoulder brushing her hair. Booth had no idea what _Hermosa _meant, but he didn't enjoy the clear affection that Miguel had said it with.

'I tried speaking to you at Thomas' funeral,' Miguel said. Booth heard Brennan murmur something about not staying long.

'I wanted to say that I was sorry that I left you with the Jespers the way I did. I know…'

'It's illogical for you to say you're sorry for something you had no control over,' Brennan interrupted, staring at Miguel. 'The circumstances would not have changed regardless of whether you had stayed.'

'I had to get away,' Miguel said, his tone pleading. 'You know what it's like to feel like the whole world is against you, and that there was nothing left for you to lose. So I ran. And while I am not regretful that I left, I am sorry that I wasn't there to protect you.'

Booth tensed at the word _protect_. Protect her from what? He chanced another half-step closer to Brennan, whose shoulders were slightly hunched. He recalled that Jesper had been one of the names written on her pair of red sneakers. Which meant that Miguel had also been in the system with her.

A beat.

'I... Gracias hermano mayor.' At Brennan's words, Miguel let out a bittersweet smile. Without a word, he turned on his heel.

'You have become a very _beautiful _woman, just like I imagined,' Miguel told her at the door. 'Christine would have been proud.'

Then he was gone, striding past a curious Angela.

'Bones?' Booth tried to constrain the curiousity he was feeling, but some of it slipped through.

Seeing her body start to shake, Booth reacted on instinct.

'C'mere,' he whispered, wrapping his arms around her like he did that day in Thomas Newman's office. Feeling something hot and wet on his neck, Booth motioned for Angela to close the door. The artist, who had hurried in seeing her best friend start to cry, abruptly halted her steps and nodded.

And then Booth did what he could when it came to feelings and emotions and Temperance Brennan.

He waited.


	3. Chapter 3

Brennan felt Booth's arms around her and she drew solace from the warmth and strength that they provided. She felt a wave of embarrassment wash over her as she blinked back the flow of tears. Pushing herself away slowly, she resisted the urge to turn away, knowing her nose would be red and her eyes would be puffy.

_God, I must look horrible._

Brennan swept her thumb over the wet patch she had made on Booth's shirt.

'Don't worry about it,' Booth told her, a cold draft settling over her as his arms slipped away. 'It'll dry eventually.'

Nodding her head wordlessly, and feeling the lump in her throat throb painfully, Brennan tried to regroup. Seeing Miguel again after all these years, after all that had happened…

'So who was that?' Booth's question brought a small upward turn of her mouth. His curiousity, coupled with his natural protective streak, must have been goading him the minute that he had known that there was some kind of connection between Miguel and herself.

She looked up and regarded the warm, brown eyes staring into hers. She had never been as adept at reading people as Booth was, but she could tell that there was genuine concern as well as something much deeper lodged in those depths. Forcing herself not to analyze what she _thought _that deeper something was, Brennan searched her mind over where to begin.

Her time in the system had been closely guarded. She had seen no reason to share her experiences with anyone. By the time she had managed to emancipate herself from her grandfather and started at Northwestern, Brennan had made a conscious effort to leave that part of her life behind. She was a forensic anthropologist and renowned author, not a successful byproduct of foster care. And, she had to admit, recalling those years brought back feelings which she had spent years trying to bury deep down inside her. They made her feel small, unwanted and vulnerable. If there was one thing Brennan detested, it was showing weakness.

But Booth had never judged her before. He had seen her cry, fall apart, given her those guy hugs he seemed fond of whenever she got scared. This man, she realized with a start, knew more about her than her own family.

'Earth to Bones?' Booth waved a hand in front of her face, jolting her back. Clearing her throat, and daintily swiping the tears that lingered around her lashes, she began to speak.

_**Temperance glanced at the small cottage. It looked nice enough, she supposed. Clutching her garbage bag closer to her body, she studied the white paint, red tiled roof and overgrown garden with something akin to fear. When Elise, her case worker, had arrived that day announcing that she had found someone for her, she had felt elated. But that had quickly devolved to uneasiness the moment they left the group home.**_

'_**Be respectful,' Elise told her, her voice high-ptiched and nasally. The older woman looked down her nose at her, her salt and pepper hair scraped back into a tight bun and her red lipstick garish against her skin. 'It was hard enough finding someone who wanted you. Follow me.'**_

_**Temperance tightened her grip on the garbage bag, trying to appear unaffected by those words. Elise rapped on the door. Heavy footsteps before a thickset man opened the door.**_

'_**Charlie Jesper, I'm Elise Connoll. This,' Temperance felt herself being dragged in front of the man, 'is Temperance Brennan.' **_

'_**Nice to meet you,' Temperance managed to say, her skin crawling as Charlie's eyes travelled down her body. Her arms were still prickled with goosebumps after Elise had left and Charlie had introduced her to his wife, Jennifer, and their other foster child, Miguel.**_

_**Miguel had not said a word to her, choosing instead to observe her as she was led away by Jennifer to a room at the back of the house. At dinner, Temperance found herself relaxing, deciding that her anxiousness was premature. Conversation had been light-hearted, and both Charlie and Jennifer seemed nice. Miguel did not say a word at dinner either, shooting dark glares at everyone around the table.**_

_**Later that night, Temperance retired to her room. She could hear the muted sounds of the television and the running water in the master bedroom as Jennifer got ready for bed. Miguel, who was in the room next to her, was quiet and she assumed that he had already gone to bed. Looking around at the bare room and at her garbage bag propped up in the corner, Temperance felt her eyes start to water.**_

_**This was her home now. Charlie and Jennifer and Miguel. Not Russ or Mum and Dad.**_

_**Harshly ripping open the trash bag, she took out the small picture of her family. Tracing her finger over the wide smiles that Russ and her parents had, she tucked it into the backpocket of her jeans and tried to sleep.**_

_**The violent rattling of her doorknob woke her up. Jerking upright, she stared as the door opened.**_

'_**Up late darlin'?' Charlie's voice was slurred. Eyes darting around, she tried to find a way out.**_

'_**No need to be shy.' Suddenly he was pinning her to the bed, a hand over her mouth as she tried to scream. 'Shhhh. You'll like this, I promise.' His breath was sour and rancid.**_

_**His hand was under her shirt now, his nails raking past her stomach up to her chest. Eyes widening, she tried to struggle, tried to kick or hurt him somehow…**_

_**No, no, no, no…**_

_**The top button of her jeans was being undone and his hand was slipping past the waistband of her underwear. **_

'_**I wonder what you'll feel like.'**_

_**NO!**_

_**She felt her breast being squeezed and she gagged as the pain shot through her body. Fingernails again raking down her stomach towards her jeans. The cool night air hit her thighs. She felt his fingers prod her center and heard him let out a guttural moan.**_

_**The next thing she knew, Charlie was across the room. Miguel stood over him, placing himself protectively in front of her. Temperance tried to say something, but the only thing that came out were choked, muted sobs. She followed as Miguel dragged her towards his room, locking them both inside.**_

'_**You sleep here now,' his English was thick with a Spanish accent. 'He won't harm you while I am here.'**_

'He didn't-'

'No,' Brennan interrupted Booth fiercely, shaking her head. 'Charlie never raped me. Miguel kept to his word. After Miguel ran away a few months later, I would go to my room, sneak out my bedroom window and spend the night at a friend's or just somewhere warm.'

'Elise-'

'Elise didn't care,' Brennan said with a touch of bitterness. 'As far as she was concerned, she had done her job and placed me in a home. One less kid to deal with, she told me.'

'Charlie…' Booth's voice was hard, his fists clenched.

'Thomas came and got me out,' Brennan told him, staring at her lap. 'I guess I made enough noise, ringing Social Services, that they eventually sent someone to investigate.'

'Tell me that bastard is in jail.' The tightly controlled anger in Booth's voice both thrilled and frightened her.

'It was my word against his. Miguel had disappeared and Jennifer was too afraid of her husband to say anything. Thomas said he couldn't do anything, though he managed to get the Jespers' credentials as foster parents revoked.'

'God Bones…'

Brennan tensed, seeing the pity in his eyes. 'I don't need you to feel sorry for me. I told you this because you are the person I trust the most, aside from Angela, and I know that-'

Booth abruptly pressing her up against him silenced her. This hug was different from before. She could barely breathe; his grip on her was so hard.

'Booth?' She whispered, her chin resting on his shoulder. She felt one of his hands bury into her hair and her scalp tingled.

'Just…I need a guy hug,' Booth replied.

_Next time I get scared, I'll give you a guy hug._


	4. Chapter 4

Booth rolled his shoulders, the carton of takeout he had procured along the way tucked under his arm. This was what they did. Something traumatic and emotionally draining would occur, and they would sit surrounded by beer and Chinese food – he had tried forcing her to eat pie, but she had made her opinion on cooked fruit crystal - and try and sort through it all. Booth felt that Brennan had accepted the fact that everything would seem better once your stomach was satisfied. At least, that's what he hoped she got from their midnight feasts.

But this time felt different. Something had changed between them - the balance they had tried hard to maintain shifted into something more, something which was fraught with the possibility of both the opportunity for happiness or the end of something before it had begun.

And he was beginning to sound like Dr. Phil.

Sucking in a breath, he moved to rap his knuckles on her door. Hearing heavy footfalls, he straightened his spine and tried to look nonchalant.

'Hey Bones,' he said softly, see her face appear as the door swung open. Her face was scrubbed clean and took on a slightly rosy hue. The dark smudges under her eyes did not attract from her beauty and he felt his heart squeeze when he saw the red rimming the edges.

'Booth.' Her tone was tired.

'I brought Wong Foo's?' He offered, flashing his infamous charm smile. She gave him a weak upward turn of her lips in return and stepped aside to let him in. Locking the door, he turned to find her settled on her couch. A magazine lay open on the coffee table, a glass of whiskey sweating on a coaster.

'So, our friend Jack huh?' Booth asked, placing the carton down on the surface.

'Hodgins isn't here Booth,' Brennan replied, her tone dull.

'I meant Jack _Daniels_,' Booth corrected her. Lifting the boxes out, Booth chanced a glance at his partner when she didn't respond. She was staring blankly down at the magazine, her hands limp and her back curved over. He let the silence hold while he arranged their dinner out on the table. Seating himself next to her, and careful to keep some distance between them, Booth broke open a pair of chopsticks.

'Eat up Bones.'

'I'm not hungry.'

'You haven't had anything to eat since I was at the lab this morning.'

'I had a salad.'

Curbing his impulse to say that a bunch of soggy leaves drenched in sauce did not constitute a meal, let alone food, Booth set down the fried rice he had been prepared to dig into.

_Remember Booth, slow and steady. Don't push her._

Glimpsing uneasily at Brennan, Booth tried to come up with something to say to break the awkward tension that had enveloped them.

'You okay Bones?' As soon as he said it, he winced. Of course she wasn't _okay_. She had told him what Charlie Jesper had done to her. He clenched his fists just thinking about it, trying to stem the rage that had been simmering slowly since Brennan's confession.

'I don't think I'm going to be much company tonight Booth. Maybe you should just go home.' Translation: I want to be alone.

'I _want _to be here Bones, alright? So I'm going to sit here and not eat with you,' he said, leaning back and slinging an arm over the back of her couch. Brennan turned to look at him, her gaze scrutinizing. A moment passed before she picked up the sweet and sour shrimp, placing one into her mouth.

_That's my girl._

They ate in silence, Booth studying her covertly and Brennan focusing intently on her food.

'Miguel was here before,' Brennan told him. The noodles stopped halfway to his mouth.

'Oh?' He hoped his tone was light.

'Thomas gave him my address before he died,' Brennan continued, setting the beef and broccoli down. 'He came to explain to me again, why he left.'

A pause.

'Did you…' Booth trailed off, unsure of what to say.

'What's done is done. Isn't that what they always say? I don't see the relevance of dwelling upon events that have already occurred. There is nothing that I can do or say that will change the past. My time and energy would be better spent devising ways to deal with what has happened, to try and find another way to achieve the end product that I desire.'

'Bones-'

'I've spent _years _trying to rationalize methods to help me overcome my fear of intimacy with men. And I believe I've succeeded. I am no longer averse to the thought or act of sexual intercourse. Sully said-'

'Woah, okay Bones,' Booth interrupted, feeling his instinctive negative response to any mention of Brennan's relationship with the former FBI agent. 'I get the point.'

'I've learned to overcome what happened at the Jespers, based on these observations. But why does it feel like it's still…it's still something that I _need_ to deal with?' Her voice wavered at the end.

'Because this isn't the kind of thing you can lock away in your genius mind and just ignore,' Booth told her gently, shifting closer towards her. 'It's one of those things that make you who you are. Sure, it's not something that you particularly want, but its _there _and you have to learn to live with it.'

Booth felt Brennan lean her head on his shoulder and he let his arm fall to pull her closer.

'I was a sniper Bones. I used to murder people. I shot a father in front of his son. I tore families apart. Yeah, they told me that I was serving my country and I was happy to do that. But it didn't change the fact that I took lives.'

'Your cosmic karmic balance sheet?' Brennan murmured.

'If it were up to me, you would have your family in front of you and none of what happened to you would have happened.'

'That's impossible Booth. My mother is dead and my father and brother are in jail. And you have no control over what happens to me.'

'I know that Temperance. But that doesn't mean I can't try,' Booth told her.

'When Miguel left, I used to sit and stare out the window hoping he would come back. I did that with Russ as well. But they never did.' The last part was said so softly Booth almost didn't hear her.

'I wish things had been different for you. You're too good a person to have had endured all that,' Booth replied, allowing the undercurrent of affection in his voice to leak through.

'Ditto,' Brennan retorted.

'Wow. I'm impressed,' Booth said, looking down at her head in surprise. 'It was used in the correct context and everything.'

'Angela said it earlier today. I like it. It conveys everything you want to say in one clear, concise word,' Brennan stated, reverting back to her anthropological viewpoint. 'It is fascinating how the English language has evolved over the years and incorporated all these "slang" words as authoritative terms found in the dictionary. For example, I found the word bootylicious in my Oxford dictionary the other day.'

Booth resisted the urge to laugh out loud but that quickly petered out as he imagined Brennan shaking her proverbial booty at a club. Zach had mentioned once that Brennan moved her body in a sensual manner, using her feminine allure to entice the opposite sex.

'You're a good man Booth. And a wonderful father. Parker is a lucky boy.' Booth's heart warmed hearing those words. Sometimes Brennan said the wrong thing, but most times she said the right one.

'I'll be here when you need me Bones, okay?'

'Okay,' Brennan said, burrowing her head into his neck. Repressing the urge to shiver when he felt her nose brush against his skin, Booth rubbed her arm soothingly.

'You want some fried rice Bones?'

Pressing her face into his neck for a second longer, Brennan retracted from her position to gaze at him with a faint amount of amazement.

'You love fried rice. Usually you devour it in less than a second-'

'See, _that_ is physically impossible Bones. Maybe a minute. And I eat with good table manners.'

Shrugging her shoulders, Brennan reached for the shrimp.

'Oh and Bones?' She turned to regard him. 'You're welcome.'

The genuine smile she gave him was all he needed.


	5. Chapter 5

Brennan's fingers flew over the keyboard as she typed up her findings on the Aztec warrior she had authenticated. A moment's pause as she allowed herself to smile before they resumed hacking away at the keys once again. It had been nice, having Booth there. Miguel's sudden reappearance into her life had thrown her for a loop, and Booth had been the anchoring presence she needed to reorient her bearings.

_Much like Thomas_, Brennan mused. It wasn't hard to draw parallels between the two – they both possessed the same caring, giving persona that she found comfort in.

_Except Booth is nothing like a fifty-year-old, middle-aged man._

She wasn't a fool. She acknowledged that her partner possessed symmetrically pleasing features, inclusive of a well-toned, and rather impressive, musculature. And there were times she wondered what it would be like to press her lips against his…

_Remember the line, Temperance._

Booth had drawn that line. At the time, she had known it had been an impulsive reaction to Cam. Nevertheless, she couldn't find fault in his logic. They were in a high-risk, high-tension field. Their nerves and emotions were constantly stretched thin and indulging in any kind of romantic relationship would only serve to draw out that sentiment.

But now, that line seemed to taunt her.

_You told him about Charlie._

Oh, she constantly spouted off how she didn't _need _a male companion to complete her. Men were there to satisfy her biological urges. The few times she had chosen to believe that they were more than just warm bodies for her bed, they had proved her spectacularly wrong. Her lips twisted when she recalled Michael and Sully. Booth, on the other hand, had wormed his way under her skin. He seemed to be able to read her as plainly as an open book, and it was disconcerting. No one had ever taken the time to study her, she realized with a downtrodden sigh. No one had even been around long enough.

Booth, however, always seemed to be just _there_.

This was why she needed more data to clarify her findings, empirical facts for her to compare and contrast. Of course, she had no control for her to base her results on. It didn't seem right, forcing Michael to measure up to Booth. No, what she needed was-

A throat clearing interrupted her decidedly non-linear thoughts.

'Ange,' Brennan said, thankful it wasn't Booth. Her best friend had her arms crossed, hip jutting out to the side.

'I know you probably don't want to talk about seeing Miguel again' – Brennan remembered the tears and the hugs that had occurred all those years ago when Angela had listened quietly, patiently letting her know what had happened at the Jespers and how it had felt when Miguel had run away – 'since, 

let's face it, Booth probably swooped in and saved the day as much as he could already. But that doesn't mean you can't talk to me. I'm your best friend Tempe, you can come to me for anything.'

'I know Angela,' Brennan told her gratefully, seeing the artist's face soften into a smile.

'Good,' she answered definitively, dropping into one of Brennan's chairs. 'Now you can explain to me why, exactly, you're wearing a dress.'

Subconsciously, Brennan fingered the blue and white material that clung to her upper torso and then flared out from her hips to just above her knees. Her shoulders were bare, though she had a capped sleeve shrug slung across the back of her couch.

'I just felt like wearing one,' Brennan retorted, trying to conceal the defensive tone she knew she would adopt.

Angela made a knowing sound at the back of her throat. 'There's nothing wrong with admitting it Sweetie.'

'There's _nothing _to admit.'

'Of course not,' Angela replied in a somewhat patronizing voice. 'I saw that look on your face when I came in. I know what you're doing.'

Brennan gazed open-mouthed at the forensic artist.

'You can do all the experiments you want. It doesn't change what we already know. When Hodgie and I left you and Booth standing at the altar, it totally rocked your world didn't it?' Brennan tried to say something, but Angela continued. 'You saw him staring back at you and you realized that _this is the one_.'

'Angela-' Brennan started, feeling something akin to panic creep into her heart. She _had_ thought that, for one fleeting second. She had wondered what it would be like to tie herself to Booth in matrimonial bliss, had wondered if she had finally found that one person she had always heard people talk about…

'Booth isn't some scientific variable you can quantify Sweetie. I know you're putting this in a way that makes this less terrifying for you, but love just kinda sneaks up on you when you least expect it.'

_Love?_

'How-' Brennan's voice was hoarse, her words raw.

'You just _know_ Tempe. And I think its time you realize that what Booth and you have going on isn't some "partnership" with a that infuriating "line" that you both seem so fond of reminding each other of because you're too scared to get your feet wet.'

Brennan's face scrunched up slightly. To her knowledge, her feet were perfectly dry.

'But because I know you, I'm going to let you do your experiments and rile the poor man up. Maybe this will be just the thing he needs to get his own butt in gear.' Angela murmured the last part to herself before standing up. Brennan remained where she was, contemplative.

'Oh, and Sweetie?' Brennan lifted her head to face Angela. 'I know that they say love is patient, but the truth is everyone has that one chance to catch fire. Don't wait too long or yours just might burn out.'

And then she was gone, her long chains clashing together and her flat soled ballerina shoes whispering across the tiled floor, leaving Brennan to mull over her words.

Angela was right – _wasn't she always? _

– about everything. Science was steady and reliable. The human tendency towards feelings and sentiment were messy and constantly evolving, making it hard to decipher.

Her time in the system had made her wary towards others, and her time spent at the Jespers had only strengthened that resolve to be emotionally self-sufficient. After all, it didn't hurt as much after the third family that had taken you in felt like that they had had enough. It had metastasized into hurt, anger, disappointment. _Those _were things she could deal with easily. Pick yourself off the floor, dust it off and box it away. That was how she had dealt with everything, since she had no one there to help take that weight off her shoulders.

Thomas had come along though, eased some of those burdens. And now with Booth, it wasn't so heavy anymore. It finally felt like she was free, in a sense, to fully _feel _her way through a situation. Picking the heavy volume off her desk, she absentmindedly made her way over to the bookshelf. She slid the book back in, trailing her finger across the leather and embossed words.

Hearing a soft, sharp intake of breath, Brennan turned around to see her partner staring at her, mouth slightly open. Watching as he stammered, trying to recover himself, Dr. Temperance Brennan came to a realization.

She didn't want her chance to burn out.

But she wanted her experiments, just to be safe.

_Because when we catch fire, I'm afraid we might explode._


	6. Chapter 6

**a/n: brownie points to anyone who picked up on my sneaky 'Angel' quote in the last chapter.**

Booth drew in a breath when his eyes finally came to rest on his partner. Her dress left her shoulders bare, some strange swirling pattern cutting through the blue fabric. Her feet were encased in low heeled pumps but that did nothing to hide the fact that Brennan had very nicely shaped calves.

_Nicely shaped everything_.

He could hear himself stammering, and his mind raced to take control of his mouth when his partner pivoted around to face him.

'Hi,' she said simply, bemusement colouring her features.

'Hey Bones,' Booth replied, swallowing discreetly. He forced his eyes not to wander over her and he could have sworn that her lips kicked up in response.

'Do we have a case?'

Hearing the excitement in her voice, Booth almost laughed. Only Brennan would find the thought of decomposing flesh and slimy skeletons appealing.

'Sorry,' Booth told her, allowing himself a small chuckle when he saw her visibly deflate. 'So…you look nice.'

The smile she gave him reminded him of last night. It left her face unmasked, allowed the walls she usually built around herself to fade away just for that one moment. That feeling of closeness she had allowed them to share was becoming more and more frequent, Booth reflected, and he gained a small measure of victory knowing that she trusted him enough to reveal the softer side of her psyche.

'Thank you,' she said softly, a soft touch of pink diffusing over her face. 'I…Miguel has a show at the Smithsonian tonight. He invited me and…it just seemed important that I should go.'

Booth frowned internally. As far as he was concerned, Miguel Guerra was on his list. He already had someone down at the Bureau running a background check on the man. Focusing once more on Brennan, he noticed her fidget.

'Would you like to come with me?' Taking his stunned silence negatively, she pressed on. 'Oh. I'm sure you have better things to do tonight and I didn't feel like going alone-'

'_Bones_,' he finally said, stepping closer towards her. 'I'd love to.' The perceptible relief on her face struck a chord with Booth. 'There's nothing I would rather do than accompany you to some high-brow, artsy affair.'

Something in his tone must have irked her. 'Booth,' she murmured warningly, eyes narrowed. 'You _have _to behave. Your irrational dislike towards those of higher status might be interpreted erroneously-'

'My dislike is not irrational,' Booth mumbled. 'And I'll behave. Scout's honour.' He held up his hand solemnly, though this was somewhat offset by the high wattage Charm Smile that he bestowed upon her.

Taking her skeptical expression as acceptance, he staunched the urge to give her a fleeting kiss on the cheek.

'I'll see you tonight at six?' Brennan nodded her head. 'I'll swing by then.' He begun backing away towards the door to her office. 'Eat something!'

It was now a quarter past six and they were both seated comfortably in his Tahoe. A small part of his mind puzzled over the loaded look Angela had given him when they had departed the Jeffersonian. The artist had curved her lips at him coyly, as if she saw something that he had yet to see. Which, if he had to concede, was probably the case. Angela's ability to see things that no one else saw bordered on legendary within the lab and amongst their circle of squints.

The other part noticed that his partner was, again, fidgeting. In the two years that they had spent together, Booth saw that Brennan liked to appear in control. Whether she did it effortlessly, he didn't know, but she almost always projected composure and assurance, a feeling of authority that one couldn't help but succumb too. Of course, Booth constantly found himself resisting said authority. After all, in their relationship, he was the alpha male as she consistently kept reminding him.

He could barely recall her fidgeting. _Ever._

'You know, it's going to be okay,' Booth said, breaking the stillness. Brennan's hands stilled, and then settled into the folds of fabric bunched up at her knees. 'If you need to bolt or anything, just say the word and we're gone.'

'I fail to see the correlation between lightning and my need to leave,' Brenna replied, puzzled.

Booth sighed in exasperation. 'I meant that if you need to leave, Bones.'

'Oh. Okay.'

The stillness washed over them again and Booth let it. He knew that Brennan needed time to regroup. She despised social gatherings, he knew, because it made her uncomfortable. The last gala they had attended, she had sat beside him and launched into a tangent about warring tribes and their need to assert dominance. She had also kept her glass of champagne refreshed the entire night. The combination had meant they had beat a hasty retreat, Brennan proclaiming her distaste of such bureaucratic shin digs in her outside voice.

Tossing his keys to the valet, Booth hurried to the passenger side to help Brennan out. Seeing her start to protest, he told her quite firmly that his mother had raised him a certain way, and that she should just accept it. When she made no move to remove the arm she had looped through his elbow, he didn't protest.

'Hermosa,' a deep baritone voice said in greeting. Miguel stood before them, body encased in a tailored black suit. The tattoo on his neck was still visible and lent an edge to his otherwise polished look. Booth 

saw the man give him a small smile. 'And you must be Agent Booth. Temperance has told me a lot about you.'

'It's _Special _Agent Booth,' he replied, taking Miguel's outstretched hand. Brennan's arm slipped out and Booth wondered what she had told her former foster brother.

'This is nice,' Brennan said, almost shyly, gaze roving over the mounted pieces of canvas on the walls. Guests milled about, the tinkling of wine flutes and the low rumble of voices echoing throughout the wing. 'I'm glad you kept with your art.'

'Science was your refuge Hermosa. Art was mine.'

Booth regarded the man in front of him, trying to decide whether he was to blame for what Brennan had suffered at the hands of Charlie Jesper. He had just run away, leaving Brennan behind to…

A delicate hand lightly folded over his clasped fists. Booth flicked his eyes up to find Brennan staring at him with an unreadable expression.

'I have something I want to show you,' Miguel said to Brennan, who nodded. Her fingers still clasped loosely in his, Booth allowed himself to be pulled along, trying to ignore the heady sensation and desperately hoping his palms didn't get sweaty.

They stopped before a painting. Booth heard Brennan let out a tiny sound of surprise, watching as she absorbed the image before her. A lone woman sat near a window, her auburn head regarding the view outside. Her eyes, turquoise and carrying a sadness that seemed to be a part of her, were fixed on the field of daffodils. Below the canvas, a plaque rested bearing the name "Temperance".

'I didn't forget you,' Miguel told Brennan, who was staring transfixed at the painting. 'I wanted to come see you all these years. I was still lost then, and I thought that maybe, seeing you, I could find a way out of the drugs and the despair.'

Booth watched as Miguel leveled Brennan with an intense stare. He felt Brennan squeeze his hand, as if seeking comfort, which he reciprocated by squeezing back.

'I know you said you understood why I left, and that you forgive me. I don't deserve your forgiveness Hermosa,' Miguel spat out bitterly. 'The system, it has a way of sucking you in and then spitting you out. No matter where they put you, it's never home. When they leave-'

Booth felt Brennan tense beside him.

'You're on your own. I saw you in the newspaper, read your books.' A mischievous twinkle was in Miguel's eye when he glanced at Booth. 'You have found your home Temperance. And I hope, in time, that you can allow me a small place in that.'

Miguel finished his impassioned speech, seeing as Booth did the glistening sheen that had appeared over Brennan's eyes.

'Just…remember that at one point in time, we only had each other.'

Upon saying that, Miguel melted back into the crowd.

'Booth?' Brennan's voice was strong, but faltered at the end.

'Alright Bones,' Booth said softly, placing a hand on his waist and drawing her closer towards him. 'We can go.'


	7. Chapter 7

Brennan felt Booth's hand at her waist, gently steering them through the other bodies she saw meandering through the gallery. She could feel her eyes burning and willed herself to stop them from tearing up. The cool night air hit them and Brennan saw Booth start toward the valet.

'Can we…could we please go sit by those trees?' She asked, hating how small her voice sounded. Brennan saw Booth pause and then pull her gently towards the cluster of trees surrounding a stone bench. Wordlessly, she let herself drift down towards the chair. Booth sat beside her, silent, his hands clasped together at his knees.

_At one point in time, we only had each other._

Miguel was right, she supposed. The Jespers' had been the first home she had been put into after Russ had left. Fifteen and scared out of her mind, Miguel had been her guardian angel almost. He had protected her, seemed interested in her well-being. After having the world pulled out from under her, she remembered thinking it was nice having someone who genuinely cared. She was able to cope with Charlie, with the kids at school, with the stares and whispers – all because she knew at the end of the day she had someone she could relate to, seek comfort from.

Oh, she had had a crush on him. Brennan smiled, remembering the long-limbed teenager Miguel had been. He had seemed to perpetually brood, and her young teenage mind had found that dashing. But he had been her foster brother, and she slowly began to revel in the fact that while Russ may be gone, she now had another older brother; one whom she thought would stick around.

And then one mild summer day, she had woken up and discovered Miguel gone. Jennifer and Charlie had been in hysterics, she recalled. But that had barely registered as she had stared out the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of Miguel's brown skin and worn green jacket. He had never come back and Brennan found herself alone once again.

_He left me. What right does he have, coming back in my life? Expecting me to just…_

Brennan blinked and shifted her face towards the night sky, absently picking out the constellations she could see in the night sky. The moon hung like a crescent amongst the dark, casting its pale glow over the city. Brennan recalled the Greek lunar deity Selene, and in a moment of rare whimsy, imagined she saw a beautiful woman with a pale face, dressed in robes and with a half-moon on her head, charging across the sky in her chariot.

Booth nudging her shoulder broke her out of her thoughts. Brennan turned to regard her partner, who was studying her intently.

Releasing a sigh, she spoke. 'I'm fine Booth.'

No answer came, and Brennan could feel his gaze on her skin.

'I'm _fine_.'

'Bones-'

'Booth,' Brennan said, her voice slightly raised. 'I just…can we please not pursue this line of questioning tonight?'

She saw Booth scratch his nose out of the corner of her eye, shivering as a soft breeze stole over them. Suddenly, some heavy and warm was placed around her shoulders.

'I think we should talk about this.'

Brennan pursed her lips. '_You_ want to talk about this. _I _do not.'

'Keeping everything bottled up inside and then stewing over it isn't going to help Bones!'

'Well, I'm sorry if my stewing offends you!'

A pause. 'You have no idea what that means, do you?'

The patronizing tone she heard in his voice stung, and she felt the anger start to build. 'I'm sorry that I'm not as well-versed in pop culture as you are, _Agent Booth_. That doesn't mean you can belittle me.'

Booth looked at her, shocked. 'What? Bones, I never-'

Getting abruptly to her feet, Brennan shrugged off his jacket.

'What are you doing?' Booth asked, standing.

'Giving you back your jacket,' Brennan answered, shoving it towards her partner. She watched his eyes narrow, his forehead furrow.

'It's cold out here. You need-'

'It doesn't matter what I need!' Brennan heard her voice climb, tried desperately to grab hold of what she was feeling and tamp down on it. She could sense all the anger, hurt, disappointment clawing their way to the surface, and she felt her mind become overwhelmed.

'It doesn't matter what I need!' Brennan repeated, choking. 'What I needed was to have my parents come back! What I needed was to have Russ come back! What I-' A gasp for air. '_What I needed was for Miguel to come back_! But none of them ever did! Everyone I need just leaves. _They all just leave_.' Her voice ended in a whisper, and Brennan tried to ignore the painful lump in her throat. What was she doing? She _never _let herself be this unguarded around someone, she never felt this comfortable just letting someone know what she was feeling.

_Except Miguel_.

Brennan squeezed her eyes shut, the hand that was still holding out Booth's coat dropping to her side. Oh god, what was happening to her? A flash and she was sitting at the window again, watching someone with an FBI jacket walk away from her. Her eyes sprang open, centering on Booth.

_He's going to leave too. He's going to realize that he's just wasting his time on someone who's only good with people who don't have a pulse. _

But he had told her last night that he would be there when she needed him.

_Miguel said that too._

'I have to…I have to go,' she admitted shakily, feeling her feet start to walk away from Booth.

'What? Bones! Wait!'

She felt his hand close around her upper arm and she jerked free. Glancing briefly at his eyes, Brennan hesitated when she saw the hurt reflected in them.

'Don't do this, okay? Don't shut yourself off from me.'

'I'm not. I just need to…I just need to _leave_.'

She twisted around and heard her footsteps echo as Booth remained silent behind her, watching her go.


	8. Chapter 8

After everything he had done for her, she had just left him standing there. His heart screamed at him to follow her, but his mind refused to obey. Booth had watched her disappear into the shadows, leaving him behind with nothing but a building wall of frustration.

Chewing the tip of his pen, Booth forced himself to focus on the report in front of him. He vaguely recalled Cullen demanding this finished by the end of today, but most of the page still remained blank. Gritting his teeth, Booth wondered when Temperance Brennan had suddenly staked such a large claim on his thoughts. He found himself noticing little things about her that he had missed before. He had pushed down ruthlessly what he suspected was jealousy whenever he heard her mention a date she had had the night before.

_Probably some yahoo like Dick431 with his cult-killing tendencies…_

And he also discovered that he absolutely _hated _it whenever there was even the remotest possibility that Brennan might be hurt, both physically and especially emotionally. Last night had been a prime example of her shutting him off. Booth wondered why he had been so surprised. After all, wasn't that her modus operandi? Anytime she sensed herself becoming attached to someone so strongly, Brennan would put as much distance as humanly possible between herself and said person. But seeing her with Miguel last night, he wasn't surprised. Hell, he didn't know what he would have done in her shoes. Going through all that since she was fifteen – notably Charile, which made Booth's jaw clench – and then suddenly having someone she had known during that time show up out of the blue, asking for her forgiveness and wanting a place in this new life she had managed to create for herself…

_Doesn't mean it didn't hurt any less when she walked away Seel…_

Booth let out a sigh, throwing down the pen and watching as it bounced on the table before rolling to a stop. It bothered him that it hurt this much. No woman had ever managed to affect him this way, not even Rebecca. What got him the most was that-

'Booth?' Brennan's voice startled him. Booth looked up to find his partner standing hesitantly at his door, as if unsure if she was welcome. A small part of Booth wanted to tell her to go away, something angry and nasty.

Instead he adopted a neutral tone. 'Bones. I didn't expect to see you here.' He watched in slight satisfaction as Brennan absorbed his cool voice, as she cast her eyes to the ground.

'Is it…are you busy at the moment?'

'I may have a minute.' He kept it professional and saw Brennan close the door to his office. He saw one or two desk jockies raise their heads in curiosity, but then promptly lost interest when they saw Booth's glare.

'About last night-'

'You have my jacket?' Booth gestured towards the object she held in her hands. Wordlessly, she handed it back to him and Booth caught a faint whiff of her perfume. Brennan cleared her throat before speaking again.

'Last night, I shouldn't have asked you to come.'

Her words infuriated him. Now she was _regretting _asking him to come along, after she had specifically _asked _and _told _him that she needed him there?

'Is this some kind of joke?' Booth demanded, raising from his chair so he could stare at her. '_You _asked _me _to come with you and then you're standing here, _right now_, and telling me you _didn't_ want me there?'

'Yes,' she replied calmly.

'You are so full of yourself, you know that?' Booth ground out. 'You keep telling everyone who'll listen that people leave _you _behind, when the truth is _you _leave _us _behind!'

'I don't know-'

'_Stop saying that_!' Booth said, hearing himself get louder. 'You _know _what that means Temperance! You did that to me last night! All I wanted was for you to _talk to me_ but you couldn't even do that for me, could you?'

'I told you I didn't want to talk about it last night but you kept pushing me-'

'I have to push you Temperance, don't you see?' Booth told her mirthlessly. 'Talking about what you feel doesn't make you weak, it doesn't make me see you any less. I'm trying to help you Bones, but you're not making it easy and frankly, I'm sick of the way I've let you kick me around.'

'I told you about Charlie,' Brennan whispered, her voice quivering. 'I had to tell you about how some…some _monster _did those things to me.'

Booth reined his temper in, shoving a hand through his hair. 'I know that and I'm glad you told me but-'

'I'm not purposely attempting to kick you around Booth,' Brennan interrupted, her pale blue eyes shining and boring into his. 'I've learnt to be self-sufficient. It's hard to just…it's hard to unburden myself as easily as it is for you and Angela. The environment I was raised in, learned to accept, isn't something that you can understand unless you've lived through it. I don't remember the life I had before I was fifteen. To me, my formative years were spent in the system. My life was essentially reduced to a garbage bag Booth,' Brennan told him wryly.

Booth's grip on the edge of the table tightened.

'Miguel was right – he was all I had at one point in time. And then just like my parents, just like Russ, he just walked away. The one person who I had romanticized, had made myself believe was going to be there for me, just _left_. So I suppose, somewhere along the line, it became my default defense mechanism huh?'

Standing in front of him wasn't Dr. Temperance Brennan the forensic anthropologist, but Temperance the lonely, bitter and terrified teenager who had suddenly found herself completely and utterly with no-one else. Guilt started to worm its way through him.

'Bones,' Booth said, giving her a look. 'I just-'

'It's okay Booth,' Brennan told him. 'I'm sorry I left last night.' A soft smile. 'I just needed some…some time to sort through everything. I would never intentionally hurt you. I…You've become an important part of my life and I…' She trailed off shyly. Booth felt his chest warm seeing the creeping red spread over the normally composed face of his partner. It made her seem more demure, more feminine. He turned her words over in his head.

'I'm not Miguel Bones,' Booth said firmly, willing her to accept it.

'I know,' she replied, letting out a breath. 'I guess it's just hard to realize that. But I _know _that.'

Booth found himself falling into her eyes once again, and everything seemed to fade away except for the two of them.

'You feel like pie?' Booth asked her, breaking the spell. Brennan's face screwed up slightly, just like he anticipated.

'You know how I feel about cooked fruit Booth. I don't understand why you persist on getting me to consume something I obviously do not enjoy.'

'Everything happens eventually Bones. Even things you think you're not going to like or do. But eventually, you'll learn to get used to it. Okay?' He hoped she caught the double-meaning in his words.

A pause as Brennan watched him sling the jacket she had returned over his chair.

'Okay,' she replied. Booth heard her acknowledgment and knew that, while the road was going to be rocky – she was, after all, his Bones – they would be okay.


	9. Chapter 9

Brennan thinned her eyes, raising her head defiantly into the afternoon sun. It had been a few days since Miguel's showing at the Smithsonian and they had reverted back to their old routine. Booth had begun to treat her like he normally did – a trusted friend and confidante that he persistently flirted with. She supposed, after she had left him standing there, that he would lean back on old habits. But after realizing what she wanted, what she _thought _they could have, it was beginning to frustrate her.

Except she didn't know what to do.

Heaving a long sigh, she wiggled her fingers into the pockets of her black slacks and kept a lookout for Booth's Tahoe. Her partner had sounded annoyed on the phone, which didn't bode well. His muttered comments about lawyers had only left her feeling even more puzzled.

Seeing Booth's car, Brennan stepped to the curb and restrained herself from smoothing the russet sweater she had put on this morning. The clothes she wore to work were often more conservative and durable. The only indulgence she allowed were the big, chunky jewellery she had acquired throughout her travels. This morning Brennan had wanted to feel feminine. Something inside her had screamed for her to don the form fitting top, a voice that had sounded suspiciously like Angela.

Pulling the door open, Brennan slid inside, one hand reaching for the seat belt.

'Just tell them to _not touch anything_!' She heard Booth bark into the phone. Seeing that she was secured, the FBI agent palmed his phone to his shoulder, pressing it between his ear and shoulder as he eased back into traffic.

'We'll be there in fifteen minutes,' Booth snapped, before forcefully ending the call. Letting out a breath, Brennan watched as he closed his eyes for a second before turning to regard her.

'They found a skeleton at a cemetery,' Booth informed her, sparing her a look before he turned his attention back on the road. A strange feeling of déjà vu settled over Brennan as she replied.

'It's a _cemetery _Booth.'

'Well, when the skeleton _explodes _out of its cubby hole-'

'It exploded? How?'

'I don't know Bones. That's why we're heading down there so you can use your super squinty mind to figure it all out.'

Making a vague noise in the back of her throat, Brennan wondered why she was feeling disappointed that Booth had not commented on her choice of attire. It flattered her figure, she knew, judging by the number of admiring looks she had noticed during the day. So why hadn't he said anything. Leaning back against the headrest, Brennan watched as the cars and people outside streaked past.

'Hey Bones?'

'Yes?' She replied, her head listing to the side. She could feel his gaze on her but she refused to turn towards him.

'You're quiet.'

'You're irritated. I thought you'd prefer if I didn't say anything.' She could practically feel his surprise at her observation and she felt her nails dig into the upholstery. Brennan knew that the large majority of the time that Booth commented on her lack of social grace, he meant it out of jest.

_That doesn't mean it hurts any less._

When the both of them verbally duked it out, they aimed straight for the jugular. If he meant it, she would feel it cut into her like a knife. And then there were times like this – times when Booth would act shocked that she, the woman who he persistently denied was cold or unfeeling, could read his emotions.

_Hypocrite_.

'Oh,' Booth said softly, pushing his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose. 'How's your day been?'

He was inviting her into a conversation then.

'It was fine,' she answered shortly, mentally chastising herself for letting her feelings trickle through. First he didn't notice her clothes, and now he thought she was emotionally retarded? Brennan wanted to reach across and strangle him with those obnoxious ties she secretly loved.

'That's good,' Booth commented, confused by her change of mood. 'Any plans for the weekend?'

Brennan raised her eyebrows. 'I'll probably be seeing Miguel. Otherwise, I might finish the draft my editor wants.'

'Miguel?' Booth murmured and Brennan noticed his knuckles tighten on the steering wheel. 'Bones, I think you should be careful, okay? I know how you get emotionally attached to people-'

Brennan felt herself bristle in response. 'I _do not _get emotionally-' She bit out.

'-and I just don't want to see you put so much stock in this guy until you know for sure what he wants.'

'I can handle Miguel just fine Booth.'

'I'm not saying you can't,' Booth countered. 'But…I just don't want to see you get disappointed again.'

She felt herself soften at his words. Sometimes, he could just be so _sweet _even if he was being annoyingly overprotective.

'I'm a big girl Booth,' she simply said, hoping he would understand.

'Okay,' Booth replied. 'But if you need me…'

'You're my first phone call,' Brennan reassured him, then narrowed her eyes suspiciously at his seemingly easy capitulation. Seeing the squad cars and uniformed beat cops in the distance, Brennan said her next words evenly.

'You ran a background check on him, didn't you?'

'What? Don't be-'

'You were like this with David. You stopped your snide comments and walked around with this big grin on your face-'

'You're making me sound like some kind of paranoid-'

'_You _are abusing your power and wasting valuable resources to run meaningless checks on _men_,' Brennan emphasized, jabbing her finger at his bicep, 'that show even the slightest modicum of interest in me!'

'Making sure you're safe is not meaningless,' Booth said firmly, putting the Tahoe into park.

Brennan felt her fingernails dig into her palms. 'You don't have some kind of claim over me Booth.'

'What? You want me to pee all over you? Mark my territory?' Booth retorted sarcastically. Biting her cheek, Brennan wrenched open the door and slammed it shut behind her with a loud _bang_. A nearby policeman looked up at the noise, and Brennan swore she saw his knees wobble just a bit as she approached him.

'Bones! _Bones_!' Booth's voice sounded behind her. His hand came down on her shoulder and she paused in her steps.

_No compliment. Insulted me. Wants to urinate on me. Don't. Hit. Him._

'You look nice today.'

Seeing that lopsided smile on his face, Brennan could only give him an incredulous glare before stalking away towards the remains.

_When he smiles I forget why I'm mad at him_.


	10. Chapter 10

Booth watched Brennan stomp away and ducked his head. Of all the asinine things to say to her, he had gone with the dog analogy. Sometimes, he wished his mouth waited that nanosecond for his brain to catch up. At least when it came to dealing with a certain forensic anthropologist.

_You don't have some kind of claim over me Booth._

He supposed, that was true. He wasn't her boyfriend, lover, husband – he was just her partner. He was the liason with the Jeffersonian, the homicide investigator who needed her special skills to help put people like Epps behind bars. But Booth the man, however, wanted desperately to claim her has his own. Brennan was beautiful, intelligent and loyal to a fault. Most important of all, she _challenged _him. He had never met anyone like her. And after seeing her with Sully and David, not disregarding his short-lived relationship with Cam, Booth felt more than ever that it was time for the both of them to just face up to what everyone else seemed to think was going on between them.

Brennan, for her part, was giving him that small silver of hope that she was on the same wavelength. Showing him her vulnerable side, all but saying right out that she needed him, that apology for leaving him at the Smithsonian…Booth had looked into her eyes and seen what he knew was reflected in his own. Then he had gotten scared.

This was _Bones_. Besides Parker, she was the one most important thing in his life. What if he had been reading her wrong? After all, Brennan was known for her obliviousness when it came to people and what they were feeling. There was that high chance that he could be wrong, that she was simply treating him like any best friend would treat another. So he had forced himself to treat her like he usually did, maintain the status quo until he could know for _sure _that she felt the same way. Their relationship was too vital, too essential to him.

Booth quickened his pace, hurrying to match Brennan's stride and avoid the canvas messenger bag she always carried. She spared him a fleeting look before focusing ahead. Booth couldn't help but admire the way her clothes clung to her body. The jackets she usually wore hid the soft curves at her waist and hips, but now here they were on full display. His fingers itched to make their way across the small silver of skin showing along the small of her back.

'Special Agent Booth, FBI. This is my partner, Dr. Brennan,' Booth said, clearing his mind and flashing his badge to the uniformed man stationed along the perimeter. A few people dressed in black hovered behind the police tape, eyes darting warily to the boxy van parked near the steps to the mausoleum.

'Sir, Ma'am,' the young man replied, giving them both cursory nods. 'The bomb squad are still in there. There should be-'

'You the Feds?' A stout, grizzled man asked, interrupting the police officer. The Kevlar suit he was wearing looked heavy, a fine sheen of perspiration dotting his forehead.

'Yeah. Special Agent Booth,' Booth said. 'You find anything Agent…?'

'Mullaney. Place looks clean. No wires, electronics, time device, remote. No evidence of a bomb at all. Bio-reading turned up negative too. It's all yours,' Mullaney finished.

'Any injuries?'

'Two employees. Keith Jackson, thirty-six, and twenty-five year old Andrew Worth. They've been taken to V.A with shrapnel wounds, nothing major. Said they were burying some guy in the family crypt.'

'Tandem,' Brennan murmured.

'Grandfather's still there in the back slot far as we can tell. You might want to wear something over your shoes,' Mullaney said, gesturing towards his feet. Booth cringed, taking in the slimy green mucus lining the edges of his soles.

'Thanks,' Booth said weakly as Mullaney walked away, barking orders at his men.

Brennan unbuckled her bag, fishing around to produce two pairs of surgical scrubs for their feet and latex gloves as well. Wordlessly putting them on, Booth followed after her as they entered the mausoleum.

'This is _my _crime scene,' a man yelled, catching both their attentions. Booth pivoted around to see a wiry man with short cropped silver hair and blue eyes yelling at the beat cop they had just spoken to.

'Is there a problem here?' Booth asked, placing himself in front of the man.

'Who the hell are you?' The man barked.

'Special Agent Booth, FBI. Who the hell are _you_?'

'Gibbs, NCIS. This is Navy, not Federal jurisdiction. The men who got injured were in the Corp.'

'Jethro?' Brennan's surprised voice diverted both men's attention. Booth watched as Gibbs blinked, taking in the sight of his partner.

'Temperance? What are you doing here?' Gibbs asked. _I can almost here myself speak now_, Booth thought wryly.

'Working,' Brennan replied shortly. 'This is my partner.'

Grasping the slight reprieve, Booth spoke now. 'Agent Gibbs, we're supposed to be working this _together_. Your Director requested Dr. Brennan's help, considering the state of the bodies.'

Gibbs seemed to stare at him for a minute, before turning away and snapping open his cell phone.

'You know this guy?' Booth asked quietly, wincing at Gibbs' raised voice. He pitied whoever was on the other line.

'I've worked with NCIS on a few occasions,' Brennan told him. 'You knew that they were going to be working with us? Why didn't you tell me?'

'Well, I was going to before you started yelling at me in the car!'

'I did not yell,' Brennan stated firmly. 'I merely reacted to your ludicrous comparison about urinating-'

'_Bones_!' Booth bit out, mortified. He noticed some stares being directed their way.

'What?' Great, now she was annoyed as well.

'NCIS is going to be working this with us. There, are you happy now?'

'Not particularly. I do not appreciate the insincerity in your tone.'

'Bones, _please_. I'm sorry about what I said back there, okay? I'm sorry that I cared enough to run a background check on some guy who suddenly just decides to waltz back into your life. I want you to be _safe_. If I have to "abuse" my FBI powers to do that, then so be it.'

Brennan shot him a piercing stare. 'Fine,' she finally said. 'We'll talk about this later. For now, I assume you can be professional?'

Booth merely let out a sigh of exasperation. This was one of the times he wished he could strangle her. God, did she have to make everything into such a production?

'Booth,' Gibbs said, gesturing towards three people in the background. 'Director Shepherd just informed me of how we're to…co-operate.' The last word was said with something close to disdain. 'I don't need this to become some kind of jurisdictional pissing contest, you got that?'

'Jethro,' Brennan's voice held a long-suffering quality. 'Booth is a good Agent. He's not going to lead you on some wild geese chase.'

'Goose chase,' Gibbs corrected her. Cutting a shrewd look towards Booth, Gibbs spoke. 'My team and yours. No BS. We do this fast and hard and get this guy.'

'Fine by me,' Booth answered, sizing up his NCIS counterpart. Gibbs held himself with authority and exuded a sense of regal power that made you want to keep him on his good side. Feeling Brennan pull at his sleeve, Booth stuck out his hand and both men engaged in a crushing handshake.

'Is this ridiculous display of male posturing over?' Brennan's irritated voice interrupted them. Both extricated their hands, Booth surreptiously ensuring that Gibbs hadn't broken any bones.

To Booth's surprise, Gibbs let out a hearty chuckle. 'Yeah, we're done. It's good to see you again Tempe.'

The soft smile Brennan bestowed upon the older man had something possessive ignite within Booth. Placing a hand on her shoulder, Booth took in the amused smirk that came over Gibbs at the gesture.

'_Dr. Brennan _and I will meet you inside,' Booth said inclining his head towards the entrance.

'I'll wait on my ME and join you,' Gibbs offered plainly.

'What was that?' Brennan questioned when they had turned away, both ascending the steps. Booth realized his hand was still on her shoulder and slowly let it drop away.

'Nothing,' Booth replied quickly. Brennan narrowed her eyes and Booth breathed an internal sigh of relief when she didn't say anything.

His hand was still tingling from touching her after all.

Drawing in a shaky breath, the former Ranger wondered when a simple woman had made him feel so afraid.

**a/n: Okay. For the record, I had no intention whatsoever of bringing in NCIS. It just happened of its own accord. Don't worry; they'll only have a somewhat minor role. I think. Also, I would like to thank all of you who have reviewed. I really appreciate it. And to all of you who haven't, please do. Pretty please?**

**And also, my finals are coming up. I will try and update within the next few weeks but if I don't, you understand why. Two law exams and two international relations papers. Bleah.**


	11. Chapter 11

Brennan wasn't a fool. Booth's hand on her shoulder was meant to convey that she was _his_, a way of asserting his dominance over Gibbs and seeking to waylay any thoughts that the older man would have to the contrary. Anthropologically, she understood that possessiveness reflected the feeling that the relationship one had was being threatened. It could also mean that the person was insecure about their connection with their significant other, or was feeling less confident in her or himself.

Thinking of Booth as anything more than confident was absurd. The FBI agent was always in control of the way he projected himself, much like Gibbs. They both understood that they were the alpha male, and in order to deter subordination and command the respect they needed, self-assurance was key. Even with women, Brennan pondered, Booth appeared ready to take the lead. The ones that he had pursued romantic associations with were all high-paying, intelligent women who appeared unwilling to bow to the whim of a man. But for some reason, they had all been more than willing to succumb to Booth's charm.

Brennan really couldn't blame them.

'Oh geez!' Booth exclaimed, covering his nose with his sleeve. Brennan felt the rank odour wash over her and resisted the urge to gag. It would take a few minutes, but eventually she would block out the stench. The smell of a mass grave, with all the bodies, decomposed flesh and dirt, was far worse.

'_That _is supposed to be people?' A disgusted voice asked from behind them. Brennan smiled, turning her head around to face the man.

'I'm afraid so Tony,' she answered, trying to keep her amusement in check when his eyes lit up upon seeing her. Many people found it surprising that she counted the resident lothario of the NCIS major case team as a friend, but she had quickly come to realize that there was more than quick one liners to Anthony DiNozzo. He was a lot like her in most ways – hard to trust, but devoted to a fault once that faith had been earned.

'Tempe!' Tony exclaimed, reaching out as if to embrace her. She felt Booth stiffen beside her, saw Tony hesitate when his eyes came to rest on the skeletons between them. 'Right. I'll hug you when there isn't…what _is _that?'

'Hello Temperance,' Ziva said. Giving the Israeli a warm greeting, Brennan resisted the urge to pinch his cheeks when McGee came into view. The young NCIS agent reminded her of Zack to a large extent, and evoked the same maternal feelings within her.

'Tim, it's good to see you again. You too Ducky,' Brennan told the medical examiner who was beside McGee.

'Temperance my dear! It's wonderful to see you again, though I wish the circumstances would have been a bit less-'

'Disgusting?' Ziva offered, scrunching up her nose. Hearing Booth clear his throat, all eyes snapped towards her partner.

'Oh, of course. This is my partner, Special Agent Seeley Booth. Booth, this is Special Agents Anthony DiNozzo, Timothy McGee and Officer Ziva David. And this is NCIS's resident ME, Dr. Mallard,' Brennan offered by way of introduction.

'Ah. You're the Fed that has Gibbs growling like a sore bear,' Tony remarked sagely before yelping when Gibbs slapped him on the back of his head.

'What was that DiNozzo?'

'Nothing Boss. Just wondering where you were, is all,' Tony replied, ignoring the smirk on Ziva's face. Brennan noticed the way both Ziva and Tony seemed to occupy the same area of space, and also noted that Tony didn't appear to be uncomfortable by Ziva's invasion. Interesting…

'That has got to be the most appalling thing I've ever seen,' McGee commented.

'Turning a little green around the gills there, Probie? Too much for that iron-clad stomach of yours?'

'Shut up Tony,' McGee retorted.

'What do we have Bones? Some kind of human porridge thing?' Booth asked. Brennan saw the NCIS team react with something akin to astonishment when she failed to correct her partner on the use of his nickname. Perfect, she thought, seeing Tony's eyes shine with glee.

'I believe the word you are searching for, Agent Booth, is effluvium. The results of decomposing human organs and flesh,' Ducky said, crouching down beside Brennan. She offered him a small smile in return. The older man never failed to make Brennan feel like a lady – his gentlemanly ways and cultured demeanour were hard to come by these days.

'The body at the back of the crypt should be Chief Warrant Officer Mitchell Waller. Died nineteen seventy-eight,' McGee offered.

'Person getting buried today was his grandson, twenty-two. Vet on his second tour of Iraq,' Gibbs said.

'God, they just keep getting younger,' she heard Booth murmur beside her and caught the look of understanding shared between Booth and Gibbs.

'There are two bodies here,' Brennan indicated, gesturing towards the skulls. 'We'll need to get all this back to the Jeffersonian.'

Feeling the glare Gibbs was directing towards her, Brennan spoke. 'The Jeffersonian has better facilities to help identify cases like this Jethro. My team are specifically trained for things such as this. Abby can relocate to the Jeffersonian if she wishes, and Ducky is more than welcome as well.'

'We can set up camp in Bones' office,' Booth said, playing along. 'Or at the Hoover building. It'd be easier to liaise between the agencies that way.'

Gibbs and Booth held each other's stare for a minute and Brennan saw Tony and Ziva exchange a look while McGee glanced anxiously between the two lead agents.

'Fine,' Gibbs bit out. 'We'll make the Jeffersonian the rendezvous point. But my team isn't going to get pushed around because it's _your _turf.'

'No intention of doing that Gibbs. I want to catch whoever did this as much as you guys,' Booth answered, much to everyone's relief.

'Mr Palmer, would you be as kind as to recover all this for us?' Ducky asked.

'One Wet-Vac for the soylent green coming right up,' Jimmy said, disappearing towards the front of the mausoleum.

'The vents appear clogged,' Brennan noticed, peering around inside of the crypt.

'Careful Bones. We still don't know what caused the explosion,' Booth cautioned.

'Exploding casket syndrome,' Brennan heard Ducky say from behind her. 'All bodies contain enzymes and bacteria. Immediately upon death they start to break down tissue. Yes, a body can liquefy within a week, especially if it hasn't been embalmed. It's possible that these remains were human in appearance as recently as two weeks ago.'

'In essence, the bodies were the bomb,' Brennan continued, retracting her head from the crypt. 'The gases emitting from the bodies, coupled with the fact that there was no ventilation inside the crypt…'

'Got it. It was like a pressure cooker in there,' Booth finished.

'There's nothing we can do here until I-' Brennan paused, catching herself. 'Sorry, until Ducky and I can examine the bodies back at the lab.'

'We'll meet you at the Jeffersonian then,' Gibbs conceded, backing away when Palmer appeared with some kind of vaccum.

'I'll just be…outside,' McGee said before hastily exiting the scene. Brennan felt Booth's hand at the small of her back, gently pushing her the same way McGee had disappeared.

'Urgh. Remind me to make sure I get cremated,' Tony said as they stepped out onto the driveway. 'I'd rather be flash fried than become some kind of liquid gook.'

'There are close associations with cremation and human sacrifice. In the Valley of Hinnom at Tophet, the Caanites sacrificed children to the god Moloch by burning them alive. After this was outlawed by King Josiah, the valley became something of a dump site – animal carcasses, waste and the bodies of criminals were disposed of there and a fire was kept alive permanently to ward off disease,' Brennan reeled off.

'I have heard of that. Some refer to Tophet as hell, do they not?' Ziva questioned.

'Ah. I've missed your sunny take on life Tempe,' Tony said dramatically.

'Gas the truck DiNozzo,' Gibbs told him, tossing the younger man his keys. Brennan smiled in response, seeing Tony's face fall.

'They seem better,' Brennan observed. 'Ziva seems more…comfortable regarding her place within the team.'

'It's been a rough year,' Gibbs remarked gamely. 'For the all of us.'

'I heard you're building a new boat. Abby told me,' Brennan said upon his questioning look.

'Yeah.'

Brennan studied Gibbs closely, aware of Booth's silence. The former Gunny looked older, wearier. But there was something different about him. Kate's death had affected them all. Brennan had been at the funeral, and she had mourned along with them. While Kate had never been as close to her as Angela, there had been a mutual respect between both women. Brennan had admired Kate's dedication to pursuing justice, and also her willingness to achieve that justice no matter who was standing in her way. It was a trait they both possessed – one which Gibbs had blithely said drove him to the brink of insanity.

'You've changed,' Brennan stated.

'So have you,' Gibbs riposted. 'I'll see you at the lab.'

Watching Gibbs walk away, Brennan recognized he was right. She _had _changed.

'Bones?' Booth's questioning tone made her shake her head.

'It's nothing,' she simply said. 'Let's go. Gibbs drives fast enough to defy the law of physics.'

Seeing Booth's skeptical look, Brennan chose to ignore it.

_Not nothing. Everything._


	12. Chapter 12

Booth traced the stitching along the steering wheel with his thumb, wondering how best to broach the subject without offending Brennan. She had appeared unusually subdued once they had pulled out of the mausoleum, her eyes taking upon that far away that indicated she was deep in thought.

'What is it Booth?'

Startled, Booth saw Brennan's eyes focused squarely on him. The dreamy quality that had been there was gone, replaced by a look of mild curiosity.

'Just wondering why you never mentioned that you worked with NCIS before,' Booth started.

Brennan gave him a Gallic shrug. 'It didn't seem pertinent. It didn't affect my work with the FBI in any way.'

'But still, I'm your _partner _Bones.'

Brennan looked down her nose at him, contemplative. 'Is this about Gibbs and Tony?'

'What?' Booth deflected, swallowing. 'What are you talking about?'

'I noticed that your body language became more domineering and forceful when you discovered that I had personal ties with both of them.'

'I was just wondering how you knew them,' Booth muttered loudly. _Whether you ever dated them…_

God, he was acting like a envious boyfriend when he _clearly _had no right to. But, really. First Miguel, and now Gibbs _and _Tony? They were all attractive, he supposed, to a woman. He didn't see it personally but he had noticed the almost affectionate manner that Brennan affected towards them. He found he didn't like it very much.

'I already told you Booth, I've consulted with NCIS before,' Brennan explained. 'There is no need to feel jealous.'

'I'm not _jealous_, okay Bones? Let's make that clear,' Booth countered, gripping the wheel tighter.

'As I said before, you always react this way whenever a man shows some kind of interest in me.'

'Let's list the men who have shown an interest in you,' Booth started, feeling anger and irritation well up inside. 'The Professor who pretty much discredited you in court. David, a member of some freaky cult. Michael, who chopped his brother's head off. Sully who-'

'_Enough_.' Brennan's quiet, icy tone stopped him. 'Sully was _your friend_. He treated me…he_…' _Her voice cracked. 'What about you, Booth? Rebecca, Tessa, _Cam_.'

The last name startled him. It must have showed because Brennan let out a mirthless chuckle.

'You get upset when I don't reveal the men in my life, but its okay for you to keep your love life private. The duplicity astounds me,' Brennan told him coolly.

'I don't go around announcing my…_exploits _to the whole world,' Booth grated out, recalling the vise around his chest when she had mentioned sleeping with Sully. 'That means I have discretion. And I also, personally, do not want to know what you do with other men.'

'Why?'

The simple question caught him off guard. Because it bothered him was the straightforward answer. But it was also layered with so many other things. Those guys were never good enough for her, in his opinion. They didn't realize how much of a _woman_, how special she was. They could never treat her as well as he would, _could_.

'I'm tired of this repetitive-'

'Your eyes turn green whenever another woman flirts with me,' Booth protested and explained himself when he saw her open her mouth. 'It means you react the same way when women come on to me.'

'You are a well-structured male.' Brennan's voice sounded tired, monotonous. 'And you obviously enjoy their attentions. My feelings do not factor into your considerations in any case. You will do what you please.'

'I…,' Booth said softly, trailing off. She was right, in a way. He had reveled in the interest that other women showed him. It helped buttress his confidence, let him know that even if the one person that he wanted didn't appear to feel the same way, it wasn't because he wasn't unappealing. He had understood, on some level, that Brennan would notice this. Booth had thought that maybe this would jolt her into some kind of action, force her to some kind of awareness…

_Whose the chicken shit now, Seeley?_

'Based on my experience with men, they do not wait around,' Brennan said softly.

Booth sighed, pulling swiftly into the parking space at the Jeffersonian. He turned off the engine, fingering the keys dangling from the ignition.

'Sometimes Bones, waiting has everything to do with it,' Booth replied, equally as soft. A moment passed, and all Booth could hear was the even sound of their breathing.

'Maybe she's just not worth it.' Her voice was so faint Booth almost missed it. His head turned sharply towards her, the key slipping from his grasp.

'Damaged goods. Socially awkward. Unable to feel.'

'Temperance-'

'Let's go,' Brennan's voice was shaky, verging on the precipice towards tears. Booth reached out for her arm and saw her flinch away. 'Booth, can we just…let's just get through today.'

'_Temperance_-' Booth repeated, trying not to sound desperate. Was that really what she thought he saw her as, what she thought of herself?

'I need to be Dr. Brennan right now.' He could almost see the walls build higher around her, shutting her off from him. The anger he had felt before long since faded. Why did he have to bring this line of conversation up at all? Sometimes his annoyance got the better of him – more so when the woman in question touched the parts of his soul that he hadn't allowed anyone else to see.

'Okay,' Booth conceded. 'But Bones, you can't possibly-'

Screeching tires prevented him from finishing his sentence. Brennan flashed him a tight smile before stepping out of the car, head hung low as she made her way towards the NCIS team.

'Would it be overly dramatic if I kissed the asphalt?' Tony asked, placing a steadying hand on the side of the van.

'I'm thinking of doing that myself,' McGee answered, swaying slightly.

'I find Gibbs' driving refreshing. Everyone always moves so _slow_,' Ziva said, appearing unaffected.

'Of course you would,' Tony remarked somewhat snidely. 'You both see going from zero to mach speed as completely normal. The rest of us follow things like yield at yellow, not take it as some kind of challenge to see if we can beat the light before it turns red.'

Booth trailed behind, studying the curve of his partner's spine.

'At least you got here in one piece,' Brennan said. Booth saw Tony's eyes narrow when he heard the slight tremor sneak into Brennan's voice, the NCIS agent frowning when his gaze settled on Booth.

'Let's go,' Brennan urged, seeing where Tony's eyes were. 'I want to be there before the bodies arrive.'

'You heard the lady DiNozzo,' Gibbs said, materializing out of nowhere. Booth was somewhat irked – he was a Ranger and even _he _hadn't heard the Gunny approaching. 'Move your six.'

Booth watched as they followed Brennan into the Jeffersonian, Tony and Ziva sniping at each other as McGee exchanged words with his partner.

'You coming Booth?' Gibbs asked. Booth gritted his teeth, hearing something close to condescension in the older man's voice.

'Yeah,' he replied, slowly following behind Gibbs. Booth swallowed, watching the sun glint off silver hair.

_What the hell just happened?_


	13. Chapter 13

_Damaged goods. Socially awkward. Unable to feel._

This was why it was dangerous being around Booth. He made it seem like it was okay for her to let down her guard, made it seem okay to be vulnerable and needy.

God, what had _possessed _her to say something like that?

_Nobody's going to fight for you. It's you against the world, Temp. _

Those words came back to here with sudden clarity. A friend of hers, Sarah, had told her that. It was during one of those nights after Miguel had left, when she had needed a place to sleep. She had stumbled across a woman's shelter a few miles away and the woman on shift at the time had taken one look at her and demanded that she spend the night here and not out in the freezing cold. That was where Brennan had met Sarah. A recovering alcoholic, Sarah had told her about loosing her best friend in a car accident, about her mother leaving, about her father's drinking. Brennan, in turn, had told her about Charlie and how her parents and brother had left her.

They were, essentially, two strangers seeking some form of connection. Brennan had seen how lonely and sad Sarah was, and knew that Sarah saw the same in her. Strengthened by their mutual pessimism about the future, a tentative friendship had been sown. And then, they lost each other. Sarah had stopped showing up at the shelter; Brennan had been removed from the Jespers. There were times that Brennan wondered what had become of her friend, at least Brennan liked to believe that they were friends. She had never known Sarah's last name and the woman at the shelter had refused to give it to her. Understandable considering why most of the women ended up at the battered haven in the first place.

'Are you going to say it?' Tony's voice startled her out of her thoughts. Brennan looked around, realizing they had stopped a few feet away from the platform inside the lab. She saw the NCIS team enter her office, Gibbs striding past her towards Cam's. Booth's eyes tickled her skin and she quashed the urge to acknowledge his look, instead centering her attention towards Tony.

'Say what?' Brennan tried playing innocent.

'You and Ziva are a lot alike,' Tony started, toying with the strap of his backpack. 'You say you don't want to talk, but your eyes don't shut up.'

If she thought it was hard hiding something from Booth, it was equally as hard hiding _anything _from Tony or Gibbs.

'This is about G-Man over there, isn't it?' Brennan couldn't help but smile hearing the dramatic way Tony said his words. 'The man keeps thinking I'm going to conk you over the head and drag you off to have my way with you.'

'I am not surprised you went with that analogy,' Brennan commented. 'And I believe you are exaggerating.'

Tony snorted.

'It's…complicated,' Brennan offered, seeing Angela study Tony and herself out of the corner of her eye.

'It always is, isn't it?' Tony countered.

'You tell me,' Brennan answered, regarding Tony shrewdly, remembering the way Ziva and him had acted around each other. The taller man quirked an eyebrow, as if following her train of thought.

'I believe this is what many people call an impasse,' Tony remarked, smiling thinly at her.

Brennan scanned the planes of his face, trying to get a gauge on what she had missed. Kate's death had been as hard on Tony as it had been on Gibbs, more so she had imagined. Brennan herself had never known the true extent of Kate's relationship with her friend, and she had never asked. All she knew was that the potential for _something _had been there before Kate had been abruptly snatched away from them all.

Tony looked…older she decided. Like Gibbs, the lines on his face were more pronounced, as if all the sorrow and pain he had buried deep down had tried to manifest itself in some physical form. While the arrogant, sarcastic and playful Tony hadn't completely disappeared, the man himself seemed more subdued. He had grown, matured in a way she wished he didn't have to.

'DiNozzo, quit gawking and get the hell up here,' Gibbs barked.

'I heard that he was actually nice to all of you for a while,' Brennan said, falling into step beside Tony as they headed towards the platform where everyone had congregated. Again she felt the weight of Booth watching her.

'It was creepy,' Tony told her in a harsh whisper. 'He was going around with facial hair and asking us if we wanted hugs.' At Brennan's disbelieving look, he amended himself. 'Okay. Maybe not _that _nice but he actually bought us _coffee_. McGeek and I thought we'd entered the Twilight Zone.'

'I actually know what that means,' Brennan mentioned happily, swiping her card through the reader. It wasn't often that she understood pop culture references. Whenever she did, she admitted, it gave her a kind of secret thrill. It meant that she was normal, or at least partway towards it. Having spent years hearing others highlight how abnormal she was, it felt nice.

'Hey man,' Hodgins greeted Tony, bumping fists.

'You guys know each other?' Booth asked, sounding incredibly put out to Brennan.

'We're kinda like a package deal handsome,' Angela told him while squeezing the life out of the NCIS team. Except Gibbs, of course.

'Right this way gentlemen,' Ducky's voice made them all turn towards the entrance.

'Zack-' Brennan called out before realizing what she had said. Ignoring the quiet that had suddenly descended over the platform, she turned towards the ME. 'Ducky, do you need my help with the remains?'

Ducky gave her a sympathetic look, gently patting her on the arm. 'Mr Palmer and I will be done posthaste my dear. I'll give you a call once we're done.'

Brennan nodded her head gratefully, trying to push away the memories of Zack that were threatening to overwhelm her.

'Agent Gibbs?' Cam asked, clearing her throat.

'Yeah, we'll talk to Jenny now,' Gibbs groused, walking past a somewhat stunned Cam.

'He refers to the Director of NCIS by her first name? Wait,' Cam exclaimed, holding her hand up. 'I don't want to know.'

'Shall we wait in your office?' Ziva asked Brennan. Nodding her head, Brennan found herself next to the Israeli as they ventured towards her room.

'Agent Booth appears somewhat anxious,' Ziva murmured quietly to her. 'He keeps looking at you, and then fiddling-' Ziva paused, looking to see if she had used the correct word. At Brennan's nod, she continued. '-with his rather colourful tie. Is there something occurring between the both of you?'

Brennan simply looked at her. Ziva and her, as Tony had said, were a lot alike and Brennan often found herself engaging in silent conversations with the other woman. Their habits, the way they looked at the world was similar to such a large extent that sometimes they didn't need words to convey how they were feeling.

'Ah,' Ziva said, drawing up one side of her mouth. 'I see. These feelings, they confuse you, yes?'

Brennan merely offered her a tired half-smile.

'What are you two whispering about?' Tony demanded. 'McNosy, did you hear anything?'

'I'm not the one risking certain death by asking a trained assassin and a martial arts expert what they clearly do not wish to share,' McGee answered.

Tony paused, as if considering what McGee had just said. Face going a shade lighter, he turned to the younger NCIS agent.

'Our Mistress of Darkness is coming here as well,' Tony said between his teeth.

'Who?' Booth asked, confused. Brennan resisted the urge to jump when she felt him seat himself beside her on the couch. She ignored Ziva's knowing look as well.

'Abby Scuito. She's NCIS's forensic scientist,' Brennan explained. Booth shifted again, casually draping his hand across the back of the couch. She swore she could feel the heat of his hand against the back of her neck. If she tried to move away, she would draw attention to herself.

'It's the unholy trifecta,' Tony announced, glancing between Brennan and Ziva. His eyes narrowed. 'Hey, you guys could put on some bikinis, we'll throw in some jelly and _ow_, _ow, ow_!'

Brennan wasn't surprised to see Ziva's fist connect with Tony's gut, or hear McGee snicker in response.

She also wasn't surprised to feel Booth's fingers, hot and calloused, against her as she leaned her head back.

Tony was right. They were at an impasse.


	14. Chapter 14

Booth's hand felt unnecessarily warm against Brenna's cool skin. He felt her shiver slightly and, against his will, his fingers lightly grazed across the back of her neck. This made Brennan's head turn towards him so fast, he was surprised she hadn't gotten whiplash. Booth swallowed. They were on shaky ground again, he knew, after what had transpired in the car. If there was one thing Booth could be sure of, it was that Brennan always kept him on his toes. They were such complete opposites that the inevitable friction had sparked something else instead, prevaricating between good and bad.

'I have been thinking,' Ziva said suddenly, settling herself further into Brennan's couch.

'I know. Mausoleum doesn't get many visitors. Personally, I don't blame them. Looking around knowing that decomposing corpses are stuffed behind the walls...' Tony shuddered visibly.

'Which means limited access,' Booth muttered audibly.

'Plenty of time to stuff the bodies inside the crypt. Less people means less suspicion,' McGee pitched in.

'They must have known that that portion of Chief Wallace's crypt would have been vacant,' Brennan contributed, somewhat hesitantly. Booth gave her a small look of surprise – she was usually so sure of herself when it was just the both of them - but then frowned when Tony nodded at her proudly.

'Aha! Inside job,' Tony said, clapping his hands together smartly.

'They would also have to know how to open a sealed tomb,' Ziva pointed out.

'Well, the two guys that did got blown up,' Booth added.

'That narrows down our suspect pool,' Tony retorted, placing his hands on his hips.

'What do you think McGee?' Ziva asked.

'Abby's here,' the younger agent replied quickly. Booth watched with interest as Ziva and Tony swiveled their heads towards the same direction as McGee. Turning his own, Booth saw a woman in knee high platforms practically stomp towards Ducky.

'Why is she so angry?' Brennan questioned. Her hair tickled his palm but Booth made no move to remove his arm. A small part of him liked knowing that she was tangible, next to him. Which was why, he supposed, he always found himself ensuring that some part of him was in contact with her. The hand on the small of her back, their knees brushing against each other under the table – it was proof that she was here beside him, safe and well.

_Well, physically at least._

'She had a Chernobyl meltdown today over _nougat_,' Tony explained. Booth blinked.

'She doesn't like it very much, it seems,' Ziva mentioned.

'I don't understand,' Brennan started. 'Abby's upset because of-'

'Whipped dolphin fat,' Tony said quickly.

'Nougat is made of sugar, honey and-'

'It tastes funny is what I'm saying,' Tony told Brennan. 'Plus, nougat just sounds pretentious. Why can't they just call it cream?'

'Does anyone else see that black cloud over her, or is it just me?' McGee inquired.

'For once, it's not just you,' Tony said, clapping him on the back. 'But right now, we need to hone in on the case McLose-Focus-A lot. I'll deal with Abby later.'

'What's so funny?' Booth asked, hearing Ziva and Brennan let out incredulous laughs. Abby, he noted, was on the platform looking somewhat morosely at Angela.

'Yeah, what is so funny?' Tony demanded, casting his eyes towards the still giggling duo. Booth allowed himself a small smile hearing Brennan _giggle_. It seemed almost surreal – the serious forensic scientist preferred chuckling or the occasional belly laugh to his knowledge.

'Abby is not like those big-breasted woman who fall all over you,' Ziva finally choked out, trying to compose herself.

'Dealing with angry women requires a great deal of sensitivity. Probie cries like a little girl whenever any kind of anger is directed his way, and you might karate chop them unconscious because they were "being completely unreasonable",' Tony replied, looking pointedly at Ziva towards the end of his sentence.

'I think Tony's sensitive,' Brennan stated. Booth felt his fingers tighten. He could be sensitive. He was pretty sure Brennan had mentioned that she admired his ability to empathize with people on more than one occasion.

'I certainly don't doubt that you have experience with angry women Tony,' McGee said.

'You see, that wasn't sensitive, was it McGee?' Tony observed adroitly.

'And what makes you the expert on women? To my knowledge, I have yet to see you commit yourself to a single one.' Ziva raised an eyebrow, as if throwing down the gauntlet.

'Why Officer David, are you making an offer?'

Ziva simply smirked at Tony, letting out a short bark of laughter.

'Alright, there is one clear cut undeniable reason why I should be the one to talk to Abby. She owes me a dollar,' Tony said definitively. 'Money talks. End of story.'

'That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard,' Ziva rejoined incredulously.

'Dr. Brennan,' Palmer's voice called from the door. 'The bodies are ready for you now.'

'Thank you Jimmy,' Brennan answered. Booth caught Palmer's look of happiness before the intern disappeared towards the platform.

As the others filtered out, Booth caught Brennan by the arm.

'Bones, are we…' Booth struggled to find the words. 'Are we okay?'

Brennan tilted her head, her gaze scrutinizing him as if he were a set of remains.

'I don't know.'

Her words were like a punch to the gut.

'What does that mean?' Booth asked, his words low. Was it his imagination or did he detect a hint of need somewhere in there?

'It means what it means Booth,' Brennan replied, frustration evident. 'Now isn't the time to do this.'

'We _have _to do this Temperance,' Booth heard himself say. 'We have to talk about this.'

'Eventually.' That one word, from the conversation they had had in his office after the Smithsonian, sent a trickle of relief through him.

'I promise Booth,' Brennan said, her eyes focused on the spot next to his left ear.

'Okay.'

As she walked away Booth couldn't decide if he had won or lost.

But, he reasoned, it was better than nothing.


	15. Chapter 15

_Are we okay?_

_I don't know._

Brennan truly didn't. She knew on some level she was attracted to him, knew on some level that if she only just took that diving leap off the precipice she would be part of something special.

But those same things were screaming at her to hold back.

Brennan wanted to tear her hair out in frustration. Was this why Sully had left? Because she had been unwilling to commit herself - body, mind and soul - to him? Sully had cared for her. He had made her feel wanted, cherished, as if she was worthy of a man's affection. But then he had asked her to sail away to the Caribbean, leave behind Washington to adapt to a foreign, idyllic lifestyle. What was it Angela had said? He had wanted her to live large, escape the narrow confines of the Jeffersonian to explore the world that was out there ready for the taking. Instead, because she couldn't live a purposeless life, Brennan had stayed behind. She had begun to question Gordon Gordon's diagnosis though.

Brennan was sure the reason she had remained at the harbor, watching the one man who had ever really loved her disappear into the horizon, had been for the man that had wanted to take her out for pancakes afterwards.

Now here she was again, back at that familiar crossroads between happiness and a purposeful life. There was no middle road in her mind, though Brennan understood that Booth already knew what her job was, why she pursued it so relentlessly and with such fervor. It was for the same reasons he did – to bring justice to those that could no longer do it themselves.

'Bones?'

Hearing the low baritone, Brennan shook her head slightly. Seeing Booth's concerned gaze, she unconsciously smoothed down the front of her lab coat.

'I apologize. I got lost in my head for a moment,' she said, trailing after him as he swiped his card through the reader. Spotting the two bodies laid out on separate tables, and the pile left in the middle, Brennan forced herself to concentrate on the case. She could deal with Booth later. Right now, there were people counting on her to make their voices hear.

'Ah my dear, there you are,' Ducky exclaimed upon seeing her. Palmer hovered beside the ME, fidgeting.

'Hi Joy,' Abby said. Ignoring Booth's startled look, Brennan took a second to sweep over Abby. The normally energetic and upbeat woman was quiet and downcast. She heard Booth's cell ring.

'Abby.' Brennan injected enough in her voice to let the forensic scientist know that she _knew_ something was wrong.

'I don't want to talk about it,' Abby replied firmly, slumping over next to Angela. Her best friend raised her eyebrows in response, sending Brennan a loaded look. _We'll talk later Sweetie_.

'Male and female,' Brennan noted, casting her eyes over the pelvic structures of both remains. She noticed absently how the rest of the squint squad and NCIS team ringed around the bodies, hearing the rustle of fabric and the low murmur as Booth shifted behind her on the phone.

'Quite right Temperance! You know, this reminds me of a summer when I assisted at an archeological dig in North Africa,' Ducky started.

'The one where you unearthed the fossilized Neatherthals from a primitive burial mound?' Brennan asked, bending over one of the bodies.

'That rib structure appears fractured. Maybe from the explosion?' Palmer inquired.

'No. The edges appear clean and serrated,' Brennan remarked. Turning towards the middle table, she narrowed her gaze. 'I'm seeing remains of at least three different people on this table.'

'A mass murderer?' Gibbs voice was worn and steely at the same time.

'I'm afraid so Jethro,' Duck intoned seriously. 'These people were dismembered. Likely by severing tendons, muscles from ligaments at every joint.'

'There doesn't appear to be much damage to the bones themselves, except the rib cages,' Brennan murmured. 'Those edges…I can't say conclusively, but they were most likely made using a bone saw.'

'Someone…dismembered and _then _cut them up some more?' Angela asked, looking queasy. Brennan offered her a sympathetic look.

'Were they murdered Ducky?' Ziva's question earned her an disbelieving look from Angela.

'Aside from the obvious overkill, of course,' Tony said as an aside.

'One of them at least was. Blunt force trauma to the female skull. A blow to the back of the head that was certainly enough to kill a woman of her age,' the ME informed them.

'Fourth rib phase analysis suggests she was in her seventies,' Cam commented.

'Well according to the DMV, Marilyn Torrance was fifty-eight,' Booth cut in, snapping his phone shut.

'A woman lying about her age?' Tony said.

'I'm sure she felt compelled to because of the prevalence of ageism in society today. The prejudice and stereotypes people hold about different ages has led to discriminatory behaviour from youth and those younger than her,' Temperance begun.

'Like Dan Foreman in _In Good Company_?' Tony questioned. 'A feel good movie about big business.' A pause. 'Huh. Hey Boss, wouldn't it be funny if you were working under me?'

Gibbs didn't reply, shooting Tony a look. 'Of course, that would never happen because you're just…rock solid principles and that quest for righteousness-'

'DiNozzo,' Gibbs said impatiently.

Brennan frowned. Hadn't Tony mentioned that he had been offered a chance to lead his own team in Spain. 'But Tony, I thought that-'

'I thought that idea sounded completely insane too _Temperance_.' Seeing the pleading look Tony sent her way, feeling his arm sling around her shoulder and squeeze it tightly, Brennan nodded imperceptibly though she detected the displeased expression that now coloured Booth's face and the curious one on Ziva's. Obviously, Tony had failed to mention his promotion to anyone on the major case team.

'Abs and I will start running the tissue samples and DNA,' Cam put in.

'Abby can help when I-' Hodgins started only to be interrupted by an irate Goth.

'_Abby _is _not _going to look at decomposing anything or help analyze some sicko's personal whatever! _Abby _is going to go find some damn candy without friggin' _nougat_ in it!' Saying that, the gloomy scientist pounded her way off the platform.

'Yeah, I don't think it's the candy,' Tony stated.

'Ya think, DiNozzo?' Gibbs retorted before walking away.

'My, Abigail seems very upset,' Ducky commented.

'She seems un-Abby,' Palmer offered.

'You know something Ange?' McGee asked, hearing Angela let out an exasperated sigh.

'Honestly, you people are supposed to be trained investigators,' the artist said, shaking her head. 'Bren, Ziva? I need to show you guys something in my office.'

'I don't remember-'

'Of course Angela,' Ziva replied. Brennan felt the Mossad agent latch onto her arm, dragging her off the platform.

'So, Booth, does that tie come in red?'

Tony's voice was the last thing she heard before the door slammed shut behind her.


	16. Chapter 16

The moment Brennan had left the platform, Booth had subtly made his way off it and into her office. It was not that he disliked Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo. In fact, he was pretty sure that if he had met him in another place, at another time, they would be shooting pool at a bar somewhere, exchanging stories and trying to pick up women.

_Though you haven't done the woman thing in a while, have you Ranger?_

Blowing out a burst of air, Booth tried to decide why he didn't like DiNozzo.

_One word buddy: Bones._

He hated it when she was right. Whenever a man showed the slightest amount of attention towards his forensic anthropologist, Booth would feel his stomach twist up in knots and the overwhelming urge to dip her low and plant one right on her mouth. Of course, he hadn't done that yet because he valued his life. Though there were signs that, maybe, just maybe, she wouldn't mind all that much.

Swiveling around in Brennan's office chair – which, he noted, was extremely comfortable and ergonomic – Booth got to his feet. He was hungry. Regardless of whether she was up to discussing what had happened in the car, he was going to make sure she ate. Shoving his hands into his pockets, Booth made sure DiNozzo and McGee were distracted before making his way silently towards Angela's office.

'He thought I was too _big_! I mean, I'm already practically a _giant _and what do I do? I wear sky scrapers on my feet!' Abby's loud voice brought Booth to an abrupt halt.

'Well obviously your above average height made him feel inferior.' Booth shook his head at Brennan's answer. She had said she was socially awkward in the car. While Brennan lacked tact on some occasions, he felt that she had come a long way from when they had first started.

'What I'm sure Bren meant to say was that if he can't accept you for who you are, then obviously he isn't good enough for you,' Angela jumped in.

'But he was such a great guy, you know? He went bowling with me and Sister Rosita, and the girls _loved _him!' Abby went bowling with _nuns_?

'I believe Angela is right Abby. If he cannot come to terms with the fact that you enjoy wearing shoes such as those-'

'He said I was too much for him!' Abby interrupted Ziva incredulously. 'Can you believe it? _Me_!'

'A man who wants you to change who you are isn't worth exerting this much emotion over.' Brennan's response made Booth straighten his spine. There was a pause before Angela spoke again.

'Sweetie, Sully just-'

'We are discussing _Abby's _situation I believe,' Brennan stated firmly.

'Was Sully the guy who sailed off into the sunset on his, quoting Tony here, dingy, leaky, lesser cousin of the Titanic?' Abby asked. _Maybe DiNozzo wasn't _so _bad._

'Yes,' Brennan replied shortly. 'But Abby-'

'May I say something?'

'No.'

'Agent Booth, from what I have seen of him, does not appear to be anything like Agent Sullivan,' Ziva continued, ignoring Brennan's curt response. 'He has already recognized the woman that you are, yes?'

'Plus, he's a complete McHottie.' Booth smiled at Abby's comment.

'But it's just-'

Booth was sure he should feel some guilt about what he was doing, but his curiosity won out.

'Nuh uh Sweetie,' Angela's stern rejoinder effectively silenced Brennan. 'Look, I saw what Sully did to you. He showed you this new way to live and yeah, it was great to see you happy with him, but in the end-'

'You told me to live wide. You told me that I should have gone with him.' Brennan's tone was accusatory. _I told her to go too._

'Joy, did Sully totally take your breath away?' Abby questioned.

'She meant did he make you feel like you could be yourself,' Ziva clarified.

'He made me feel comfortable,' Brennan started, almost hesitantly. _Comfortable? That was what had made her smile so damn much the entire time they were together?_

'You don't feel _comfortable _with someone you're sleeping with.' Booth grimaced at Abby's remark. 'You feel _comfortable _sitting on a chair. You feel _comfortable _wearing Ziva's super functional shoes. You don't feel _comfortable _when you exchange bodily fluids with someone!'

'Sully just…he made me feel that I was someone who possibly deserved to have someone else care about them.' Brennan's answer made his chest constrict. 'It was like having Miguel again.'

Booth's fists clenched? Comparing Miguel to Sully did not sit well with him at all.

'Oh Sweetie,' Angela said.

'Temperance, the both of us, we are similar in many ways correct?' Ziva queried. 'We have seen and gone through life a certain way, and that makes us think and act differently to what others would consider normal. I recently…I recently lost someone I cared about.'

'Ziva-'

'Let me finish,' Ziva stopped Brennan. 'I only had him for a short time but to me it felt like I had finally discovered something that had been missing in my life. We've been trained for so long to hold ourselves back, that when the time comes for us to let go, we do not, and it keeps us locked in this endless ocean of what could have been.'

'Booth is different,' Brennan said. 'He's my best friend. I just…I don't know how to let go of everything I've ever come to experience and know and just…'

'I think that you should trust that Booth can help you through this.' Booth reminded himself to buy Angela a bouquet of flowers. 'Like I said before Sweetie, I see the way you two look at each other and I don't want you to let that fire burn out.'

'I'm trying okay? Hopefully he'll be around when…I just hope he'll be around when I finally enclose my head around it,' Brennan retorted.

'Wrap your head,' Abby corrected. 'Okay, now that we've decided that Joy should just jump him, can we get back to _me_? So I've realized I should just let it go. No. Don't even both with the whole "but he's too small" or "you know what they say about men with tiny feet".' A pause. 'But he was literally a midget so – wait, it doesn't matter. This is me accepting it and letting go.'

'Good,' Angela said. 'Besides, we need to talk about Ziva and-'

'Standing near the range of enemy fire Booth?' Gibbs asked.

Booth tried not to let his surprise show as he pivoted around to face the older man, who was grasping an obscenely large cup in his hands.

'Not going in empty handed,' Gibbs told him, gesturing towards Angela's office.

'Booth?' Brennan's voice almost sent him flying through the roof. Oh god, what did he say? Should he try and-

'Do I smell a-' Abby's face popped out from behind. 'Ooooh! Gibbs! You shouldn't have.' The Goth promptly removed the cup from Gibbs' hand, sucking loudly on the straw. 'Of course I'll go help Hodgie my silver fox. But don't think my love can be bought all the time with this.' Ice rattled loudly as the cup shook in her grasp.

'Officer David,' Gibbs said, crooking a finger.

'Just remember what I said,' Booth heard Ziva whisper to Brennan before quickening her steps to catch up with Gibbs.

Booth cleared his throat, noticing that Brennan was doing her best not to look at him. She wasn't flipping him over and crushing his throat. Which meant they didn't know he had been outside the entire time.

'So Bones, you, uh, hungry?'

'She's starving,' Angela assured him, pushing her friend forcefully out the door. 'She hasn't had anything since that disgusting carrot and banana juice this morning.'

Booth stifled his impulse to gag.

'Angela!'

The forensic artist merely placed her hands on her hips. Booth switched his gaze between both women, who were engaged in a staring contest.

'Fine,' Brennan finally conceded. 'Let's go.'

'Work your charm FBI,' Angela told him. 'I have a feeling you're going to need it.'

Smiling weakly, Booth saw his partner pull off her lab coat, revealing that clinging, fitting top.

Yeah, he was going to need it.


	17. Chapter 17

Brennan picked at her salad, stabbing the fork aimlessly into a crouton. Since they had left the Jeffersonian, Booth had been nothing but…normal. It was if what she had said in the car had never happened. She should be relieved, she supposed. After all, it wasn't like she felt like having a chest-to-chest with Booth at the moment. Her mind was still reeling from what Ziva had said, or rather, what Ziva had implied.

_We've been trained for so long to hold ourselves back, that when the time comes for us to let go, we do not, and it keeps us locked in this endless ocean of what could have been_.

What could have been seemed to be the story of her life. What could have happened if her parents had returned home that fateful day, taking Russ and her with them? What could have happened if Michael had been able to accept that she would always be more successful? What could have happened if she had left with Sully?

_Coulda, woulda, shoulda._

Brennan couldn't recall where she had heard that line, but it seemed appropriate.

Across from her, Booth took another bite of his burger. Brennan studied his face, noting that his hair had become more disheveled and that a small trace of ketchup was smeared along the edge of his mouth. Should she say something? But if she said something that would mean engaging Booth in conversation, which might lead to them exchanging words, which could lead to-

'What? Is there something on my face?' Booth's question surprised her out of her train of thought.

'You have ketchup right there,' she replied, tapping her own mouth to indicate where it was. Brennan followed as he wiped it away with his napkin, a red smear appearing on the white.

'Hey,' Booth said, nudging her foot.

'You want to talk,' Brennan stated, reading the lines on his face. When had they gotten to be so close that she could define what he was thinking by simply observing him?

Booth let heaved a sigh. 'You know I do.'

'Then why aren't you pushing me like you did that night?'

'Because you're not ready.'

His reply left her dumbfounded. He had said it so definitively, so surely. Booth's brown eyes locked onto her own, and she felt herself unable to look away.

'Look Bones, I like to think that I'm someone you trust-'

'You are,' Brennan hurriedly reassured him. The smile she got in response sent butterflies shooting around her stomach.

'So yeah, I admit that I would prefer it if you could just tell me what you think. But…you're you and I've come to learn to _accept _that. When the time comes, I'll be right here. I'm not going anywhere Bones, no matter what your overactive mind seems to think.'

Brennan stared at him, feeling her eyes burn.

'Thank you Booth,' she answered, hating how her voice sounded so shaky and rapidly blinking her eyes.

'You're welcome Temperance.' She felt his hand cover hers, and allowed herself to entwine her fingers with his. The warmth from his palm, the worn skin along his fingers, the way his hand seemed to make hers look delicate and fragile in comparison.

'Let's get back to the lab, huh?' Booth said, giving her a squeeze before releasing her hand. Seeing Booth reach for his wallet, Brennan decided to let him satisfy his chivalrous side by paying for their meal. Besides, she didn't trust herself to speak at the moment. Her cell's digital ring made her reach for her front pocket. Catching a glimpse of the caller ID, Brennan flashed Booth an apologetic smile.

'Yes Tony, we're on the way back to the lab.'

'Oh. So I'm really _not _interrupting anything?'

'Why is it that everything you say always has a double meaning?'

'It keeps people on their toes. Makes their minds razor sharp.'

'We're coming-'

'No. No, I won't. I see the open door but-'

'_Goodbye _Anthony,' Brennan said with exasperation. Ending the call, she caught Booth's irritated expression which he tried to hide unsuccessfully.

'You dislike Tony,' she stated. 'He's a dear friend of mine. I would like it if you could attempt to be somewhat cordial towards him.'

Booth smirked. 'Dear friend? Cordial? Did I step into a Jane Austen novel?'

'You know who Jane Austen…' Seeing the offended look on his face, Brennan sought to elucidate herself. 'Well, I didn't think you'd be interested in her writings. Though Austen does accurately portray how the marriage of a woman resembles bartering for chattel.'

'I'm completely fine with Tony, alright Bones?' Booth replied, ignoring her views on marriage yet again.

'Whenever you speak to him, you seem irritated and somewhat annoyed.'

'No, I don't.'

'Yes, you do.' A beat. 'Its illogical for you to feel resentful of Tony. I understand that you're used to being the one that receives all the female consideration and Tony usurps that attention being attractive as well-'

'Just _one _female,' Booth muttered, so quietly Brennan was unsure whether it was meant for her ears. Pausing, Brennan considered her relationship with Tony from a purely objective standpoint. She deduced that it could be interpreted that they had an unspoken attraction between them. They laughed, flirted and exchanged quips much like Booth and herself. Looking at her partner from the corner of her eye, Brennan wondered if that's what Booth thought.

'Why is he a dear friend?' Booth's question caught her off guard as they waited for the red man to turn green.

Brennan shrugged. 'You once told me never to judge a book by its cover. While that description seems baseless, considering that you can, in fact, evaluate what a text is about through its cover-'

'Bones.'

'He understands me, I suppose. He listens when I need him too. He insists on giving me advice about what I should do even though I expressly tell him not to,' Brennan told him, stepping off the pavement. Booth's hand traced a path from the small of her back to her elbow as she stepped around a pothole.

'You told me once that there was more than one kind of family,' Brennan continued. 'Well, I have you and the squint squad. I have dad and Russ, though that's not something I think I can really rely on.'

_I love you and your brother, Tempe. _

_You handcuffed me to a bench and drove away. This time you let me watch. What kind of family does that to each other Max?_

'And then I have Tony, Gibbs and the rest of the NCIS team,' Brennan finished, willing those thoughts away from the last visit she had had with her father. 'Tony is like my big brother in a sense, if I had to define his role in the familial hierarchy.'

'Your brother,' Booth repeated, unable to hide the relief in his voice.

'You sound pleased by that,' Brennan pressed, aware that his hand was still on her elbow.

'I am,' Booth offered simply.

'Oh,' Brennan murmured, not anticipating him agreeing with her.

'For the record Bones, where am I in this little family you've constructed?'

'I don't know yet,' Brennan told him truthfully, noting the semi-satisfied look on Booth's face.

_Definitely not my brother._


	18. Chapter 18

**a/n: this chapter is dedicated Hazmatt. i don't think thanks is enough.**

Her brother. The words kept playing through his mind and Booth struggled to contain the ear-to-ear grin that that description deserved.

_Her freakin' brother._

'Glad to see you two lovebirds could join us.' Booth slanted his eyes away from the older man, feeling his ears heat up.

'I understand Abby and Hodg-'

'Hey Jack! Joy and Man Candy are back!'

'What did she just call me?' Booth asked Brennan, who looked slightly annoyed by Abby's interruption. He saw Brennan give him a look.

'Right,' he muttered. _Man Candy? _He didn't know whether to be objectified or complimented.

'Dr. B! Are you ready to have your mind-' Hodgins started, swiveling around in his chair.

'So guys, how was dessert?' Tony asked, giving them a wink.

'DiNozzo, don't make me clear Agent Booth to shoot you,' Gibbs growled.

'_Everybody shut up_!' Booth glanced askance at his partner, whose face had settled into a frown. 'This is a place of _science_, not some rowdy establishment where caterwauling and raucous behaviour is encouraged. Do I make myself clear?'

'Yes ma'am,' Gibbs answered, smiling. Booth watched as Tony and McGee edged their way out of Brennan's line of sight, Ziva watching on with an amused smirk.

'Thank you.' Brennan's tone was anything but gracious. 'Where are Ducky and Jimmy?'

'I stopped listening after they said beetles Sweetie,' Angela offered up in response, sending Booth a coy smile as she came to stand next to him. Booth shifted uneasily at the forensic artist, his fingers finding his lucky poker chip.

'Now Hodgins? Abby?' Brennan asked, moving away towards the entomologist and the now much happier forensic scientist.

'Step right up ladies and gentlemen! Here we have the decaying flesh, organs and tissue of five human beings!' Abby rang out, adopting the kind of voice usually found in circus tents.

'How _was _dessert?' Angela's question momentarily distracted him.

'What?'

'Did you and Bren manage to sort everything out? Clear the air? Did you _finally _tell her how much you wanted to rip that shirt off and-'

'_Angela_!' Booth stage whispered, giving Brennan a weak smile when she glared at him.

'There was barely any blood. It was like the bodies were drained,' Hodgins commented.

'Are you telling me we're going to have to wear garlic necklaces and go all Buffy the Vampire Slayer on our unsub?' Tony queried.

'Vampires are _myths _Tony,' Brennan began in what Booth had dubbed her lecture voice. 'Belief in vampires has been described as the result of people in pre-industrial societies attempting to explain the process of death and decomposition. Furthermore, the tales of supernatural beings consuming the flesh and blood-'

'Relevance Doctor?' Gibbs cut in.

'Well, Dracula here kept his meat wrapped. There were traces of cellulose, fiber, common paper, and string,' Abby told them.

'No fingerprints though. Too degraded,' Hodgins said with an air of frustration.

'But, because I have more than perfect vision-'

Tony snorted but quailed when Gibbs fixed his eyes on him.

'-I spotted something hinky with these two crypts,' Abby finished, her fingers flying over the keyboard. Booth saw a picture of a wall in the mausoleum brought up and zoomed in.

'Ensign Gage, USMC. Colonel Raymond Dalton, US Army?' Booth murmured.

'Why are we looking at this?' McGee asked.

'The screws from the marble furnace piece – they've been collecting rust since the internment in nineteen seventy-eight. But look at the heads. They're scratched.' Abby looked at them expectantly.

'The screwdriver dislodged the rust Abby,' Ziva started, slowly.

'But look at all the others. Look at the screws,' Abby pressed.

Booth leaned over Brennan, his chin almost resting on her shoulder. 'The screws from those two aren't rusty.'

'Jackpot!' Abby exclaimed. 'Hey Gibbs, Man Candy _owned _you!'

'Booth doesn't own Gibbs,' Brennan said, confused.

'She means that Booth beat Gibbs,' McGee explained.

'Well of course,' his partner said, turning her head. Suddenly, Booth was so close her breath was fanning across his cheek and their noses were almost touching. 'Booth is the best in his field,' she finished softly.

'DiNozzo!' Gibbs' bark made Booth check his actions and take a step back.

'Contact next of kin! On it boss! Let's go Probalicious!'

'I'll get their permission to open the crypts,' Booth assured Gibbs.

'Booth is extremely persuasive,' Brennan chipped in before engaging Hodgins in muted conversation.

'I'm going to update my Director. If I get back in time, I'll join you in those interviews,' Gibbs told him, beckoning for Ziva to follow him.

'Yeah. He still doesn't trust me,' Booth said to himself.

'Sorry to go all anthropological on you Booth, but you _are _two alpha males,' Angela said somewhat consolingly. 'Don't worry about Gibbs. He just…well, he's an acquired taste. Much like some people we know.'

'Why can't you just let this go?' Booth found himself near pleading. Angela grabbed his arm, pulling him off the platform and away from Brennan's hearing range.

'Look Seeley.' Booth started at the use of his first name. Angela's face was set in a determined mould, eyes serious. 'I've already had this conversation with Bren, but now it seems I need to help you find the light.'

'Ange-'

'She's starting to catch up to her own reality,' Angela continued, ignoring him. 'I can tell. She's stopped trying to hide herself so much. And then I look at you and see Fort Knox.'

Booth stood there, silent.

'I know we left you at that alter and it _didn't _freak you out, not like it did her.'

Booth remembered standing, the priest to his side and Brennan in front of him asking him what they should do. For a moment, he saw a little girl with her big, blue eyes and his brown hair. He saw them in the kitchen, their daughter climbing all over him while Bones put her famous Mac 'n Cheese into the oven. It had terrified him.

'How do you know that?' Booth asked, his voice low and hoarse.

'It's cliché but I see the way you look at her. And now that she's finally starting to look back, you're second guessing, wondering if what you have is too precious, too-'

'I can't risk it Ange. I just can't,' he told her. 'She's just…she's Bones.'

'It's so easy to talk about love, to think about it. To _wish _for it. But the hardest of all is to recognize love when it's standing right in front of you.'

A moment passed.

'Just know that I'm on both your sides,' Angela finally said, curving her lips slightly and giving his arm a squeeze.

'Booth?' Brennan's voice broke his reverie. 'Is something wrong?'

'No, Bones. Just thinking.'

He saw Brennan study him.

'Tony told me that one of the relatives is coming down. McGee and him will bring her to the Hoover building and meet us there,' she said.

'Alright then,' Booth answered, slapping his palms together. 'Let's roll.'

'I would like to…I'd like to talk once this case is done.' Brennan chewed her lip.

'Like I said Bones, whenever you're ready.'

'Okay.' A beat. 'And I know that this is upsetting-'

'Bones,' Booth countered, clasping her hand. 'We'll go catch some bad guys and then we'll sit down, have some pie and hash things out. Until then, we're Mulder and Scully.'

'I don't like pie.'

Booth laughed, tugging her forward towards the exit.

She was his best friend. And wasn't love just friendship set on fire? Except he didn't know whether it was love or just an intense like. He knew one thing though.

He was ready to let the fire burn.


	19. Chapter 19

_**Temperance walked down the corridor, the sounds of laughter and idle chatter filling the air. Lockers banged shut and the long, white utilitarian walls were covered with posters announcing the eminent arrival of the school dance. Clutching her books closer to her chest, Temperance tried not to let the fact that, once again, she didn't have anyone to go with. Not that she wanted a boy to look at her in **_**that **_**way. The Jespers had left her wary of the opposite sex, and she hadn't developed a much rosier view of her own after witnessing Jennifer's ignorance and silence.**_

'_**Oh look. There goes stick figure Barbie. Hey Brennan, anyone realize you're a girl yet?'**_

_**Gritting her teeth, Temperance pressed her textbooks tighter to her. It was bad enough having to start at a new school whenever she moved to a new home, but to have to go through this most of the time was unbearable.**_

'_**What's the matter? The nerd princess run out of words?'**_

_**Quickening her pace, Temperance saw the double doors within sight. Sighing with relief, she made her way to her regular spot beneath the large weeping willow just on the edge of the school grounds. Blocking out Tyler's words, she wondered why the star quarterback was always such a…such a-**_

'_**Hey.'**_

_**Startled, Temperance looked up to see Corey Dustman standing before her in his letterman jacket. **_

'_**Sorry that Tyler's such a jerk.' Corey scratched his head while Temperance continued to stare at him, speechless. Was this some kind of joke? Corey and Tyler were inseparable. She usually saw him laughing along with the rest of the jocks and cheerleaders whenever Tyler took it upon himself to single her out.**_

'_**So, what's foster care like?'**_

_**Corey's question made Temperance rise to her feet in anger. It was bad enough that some of the kids whispered 'orphan girl' whenever she walked past, but to have someone mock the very thing that she couldn't seem to let herself wash off was going too far.**_

'_**Woah. Look, that came out wrong,' Corey said, grasping her arm. Feeling her breath hitch and her heart rate accelerate, Temperance pushed his hand off.**_

'_**Don't touch me,' was all she could manage before she ran.**_

_**Later that night, she found herself outside the school gymnasium. The woman in charge of the group home she was currently in, Madeline something, was probably too busy to notice that one of her charges was gone. Temperance had felt stifled inside. While Madeline had seemed warm and welcoming, her stint with Charlie and Jennifer had warned her about looks being deceiving. **_

_**Fingering the somewhat faded blue dress she had on, Temperance cursed her long limbs and awkward body. It would be nice, she thought, to be beautiful for a day. Right now, she was going through that uncomfortable phase of adolescence where everything about herself left room for improvement. Her blue eyes, for instance, were too noticeable. Auburn hair didn't make it any easier to blend in. Drawing too much attention to yourself, Temperance had started to learn, was never a good thing.**_

_**Slipping into the large room, she absently took in the streamers and balloons draping and floating around. Most of the student body were on the dance floor, moving wildly beneath glittering disco lights. Grateful for the darkness when she spotted Tyler and Corey a few feet away from her, Temperance moved toward the large punch bowl.**_

'_**You came.' Corey's voice was unwelcome. 'Before you run, I just want to apologize for what I said earlier.'**_

'_**Why?' Temperance finally chanced, her curiousity winning over her urge to run.**_

'_**Come dance with me.' Corey probably noticed her wariness because he spoke again. 'Just one dance?'**_

_**Despite her misgivings and her fear, Temperance found herself nodding. Placing her hand tentatively in his, she followed him onto the floor, heedful of the whispers and murmurs.**_

_**Letting herself ease into the movements, she found she was actually enjoying herself. Corey didn't speak and Temperance found no need to change that. This silence, this moment…after the past few months, she wanted to savour it. **_

'_**I've…I've got to get back home.' That word sounded foreign to her ears. Had it only been less than a year since her parents had disappeared? 'Thank you.'**_

_**Corey made no move to follow her, another thing she was grateful for. Stepping out into the night air, Temperance wrapped her arms around herself, smiling. The sudden onslaught of pink liquid came as a shock.**_

'_**If I ever see you with my man again, I **_**will **_**kill you. Don't think that just because of what happened back there that you got **_**any **_**hold over Corey. He'll realize what kind of trash you really are, just like the rest of us.'**_

_**Her arms were sticky and parts of her dress were turning dark. She felt her feet pick up speed, the laughter and jeers becoming softer and softer.**_

'_**Oh darlin',' Madeline had said when she had seen her on the front porch. 'C'mon in so you can get cleaned up.'**_

_**There had been no anger, no disappointment. Just concern.**_

'This is Madeline and Jacob Gage,' McGee's voice filtered through her consciousness. Brennan flickered her eyes, realizing where she was.

'My name is Special Agent Booth. This is my partner, Dr Temperance Brennan,' Booth introduced them; Brennan not missing the worried look that he was giving her.

'The author?' Madeline asked.

'Yes,' Brennan replied, somewhat uncomfortable like all the other times potential suspects brought up her celebrity status.

'My wife loves your books,' Jacob put in.

'McGee, why don't you and Ziva take this interview?' Booth asked.

'What? Booth-' Brennan said. What was he doing?

'Bones and I will take the other one,' Booth told McGee, who gave her a nervous glance before nodding his head.

'Booth! Just because I universed out for a minute-'

Her partner looked confused for a moment before speaking. 'You mean _spaced _out. No, I just think it's a more efficient way to allocate our resources. This way both interviews get done in the same amount of time.'

Brennan narrowed her eyes.

'McGee said DiNozzo should be bringing her by in a few minutes. So we have time for you to tell me what made you completely blank out like that.'

'It's nothing Booth,' Brennan said, hesitant. The disappointed look on Booth's face was fleeting but made her feel somewhat guilty.

_He's put up with you for so long. He actually bothers. Why is it so hard to just let him in? You told him about Charlie._

'After…after Thomas took me out of the Jespers, I got put in a group home in another country,' Brennan started, her eyes on the people milling around them. 'Usually, there's so many of us that the person in charge doesn't really care what they do. But Madeline, she did.'

Short but succinct, she thought. When Booth didn't speak, Brennan looked up.

He was giving her that look, the one which seemed as if he was seeing through her, rather than at her. It left her feeling exposed, vulnerable. But at the same time, she didn't mind. This was Booth, not Michael or Sully. He actually _knew _her. He knew that she liked her salad with crunchy croutons. He knew that she liked chocolate ice-cream with cookie dough. He knew that whenever she saw her father, she needed Chinese food to make everything seem better.

So she did what she always did.

She looked back.


	20. Chapter 20

'What exactly am I supposed to be looking at Agent Booth?' Dalton asked, looking up. Brennan had chosen to remain behind the one-way mirror with DiNozzo. Booth hadn't pushed her on it.

'These photos are of your grandfather's tomb Ms Dalton,' Booth begun, tapping the glossy pictures spread out on the table in front of them.

'I can see that,' Dalton replied dryly. '_Why _am I looking at the tomb of my grandfather, who, might I add, has been dead thirteen years?'

'We suspect that the tomb's been tampered with. It relates to an ongoing murder investigation that we're conducting. I just need you to-'

'_Murder_?'

'I assure you, Ms Dalton, that you or your grandfather are not under suspicion. We simply need access to the crypt to evidence we think might be inside.'

'Agent Booth,' Dalton started, and Booth immediately winced internally. 'I run my own business. Every second I spend here with you is costing me money.'

Flashing a charm smile, Booth leaned forward closer to her. He noticed that she didn't back down, instead reciprocating his gesture.

'Look, Ms Dalton, I understand that you're a very busy woman. I just need you to sign these authorization forms so that we can-'

Dalton raised an eyebrow. 'You can show me that smile all you want; I want my lawyers to look over them.'

'Ms Dalton,' Booth said, failing to keep the creeping exasperation from leaking into his voice. 'If I need to, I can get a federal warrant.'

'Well then, by all means,' Dalton smiled, getting to her feet. 'Is there anything else?'

'Just that federal warrant,' Booth mumbled.

'Great. It was nice meeting you. Too bad you're trying to crack open my dead relative's tomb.' The suggestive tone she used was not lost on Booth.

Great. Caroline was going to eat him alive, spit him out, and then decide to have him as seconds. Dragging his hand over his face, Booth started for the observation room.

'What's going on?' He asked, seeing a few agents milling around the door. Then he heard the raised voices, one of them distinctly female.

'Woah Booth. Didn't know she was a screamer,' one of them said.

'Hey, that's _my _partner you're talking about, alright Mills? Don't make me teach you a little respect,' Booth growled, placing his body in front of the portal. 'Don't you guys have somewhere to be?'

'-_can't believe you!_' He heard Brennan say, fists clenched.

'I didn't realize that this was a one way street,' Tony hissed back.

'Hey!' Booth shouted, standing between the both of them. 'What the hell is going on here?'

DiNozzo gave him a look of thinly veiled disdain before glaring at his partner.

'We both don't want to have our demons exorcised Temperance.'

'I was trying to be a good friend Tony. It's not my fault that you're afraid-'

A derisive snort. 'I _know _you Brennan. The both of us, we're so afraid of what's buried underneath that we don't want to unearth it.'

Booth looked between them, taking in Tony's red face and Brennan's shining eyes.

'So don't even try that kind of reverse psychology on me unless you're willing to do the same. I've been with Gibbs a long time Tempe. I've learnt from Yoda himself,' Tony finished.

'I was just…'

'I know,' Tony said knowingly before letting out a deep felt sigh. Stepping around Booth, he placed a hand on Brennan's shoulder. 'I'll see you back at the lab, okay?'

'Okay.' Brennan's voice was small.

'Wait a minute-' Booth stopped, feeling Brennan grab his sleeve. She shook her head and Booth watched Tony leave.

'Bones!'

'Just let him go Booth,' Brennan told him, tired. 'I started something I shouldn't have. It's fine.'

Booth looked at her in something close to disbelief. Brennan's head was hung low, her hair forming an auburn curtain to hide what he was sure were rapidly blinking eyes and trembling lips.

'Can you tell me-'

'_No_.' The vehemence of her answer stung him. She must have noticed because she tried to elucidate. 'It's something private between Tony and myself. It was said in confidence and-'

Something about those words struck Booth. Confidence – the act of trusting someone with your deepest and darkest and knowing that they wouldn't breathe a word about it to anyone else. Over the years, Booth had allowed Brennan to shoulder a small portion of his burdens. While he was more than willing to ease some of hers, the thought of letting her carry the weight of something she didn't deserve, something she didn't ask for left a bad taste in his mouth. As far as he was concerned, those were _his _problems, not hers.

Brennan's issues were a whole different ballgame. The woman standing before him looking so despondent had already suffered enough in her life. She _deserved _to have someone be there for her, someone to look after her when it all got too much and she looked close to collapsing. He was that someone and he intended to be that someone for as long as she would let him.

_Maybe forever_…

'I can understand that,' Booth said quickly, trying to dispel the last thought from his mind. 'But you know that-'

'I'm here for you.' The way she had said it didn't seem like her usual reflexive response. It appeared more like a statement to him, a message meant for him to decode and understand instinctively. Brennan was watching him now, those azure eyes blue and unwavering. Whenever she looked at him that way, it made him uneasy. It was as if he was a pile of bones and she was studying him, her practiced eye picking out everything that was important and unseen to the naked eye.

_She knows what you did as a sniper, how you still have to take a life even today. And she hasn't flinched._

An image of a small, plastic pig came to mind.

'Did she say the forms?' Brennan asked.

'No,' Booth replied, realizing that what had happened was not up for discussion. Yet. 'I'm going to have to call Caroline to get me a warrant.'

Brennan made a tutting sound. 'She won't like that. Neither will Gibbs.'

'Tell me something I don't know Bones.'

'I still think you're very persuasive. Though, I admit, that I've developed a particular immunity to your charm. Ms Dalton didn't seem too deterred though.'

'I'm not interested,' Booth said.

'Why not? She seems attractive, though she isn't blonde and leggy. Or a lawyer.' The remarks sounded forced coming from her.

'You're jumping to conclusions without all the facts,' Booth retorted, irritated. Didn't she know that he leaned more towards reddish-golden hair now? 'Besides, Tony doesn't have a doctorate or a hefty chequebook.'

'Now whose the one jumping to conclusions?' Brennan countered, angry. 'Besides, I believe I already made my relationship with Tony quite clear. I fail to see why you feel the need to bring it up constantly.'

_Brother, Seel. Not lover. Brother. Keep repeating that now. Brotherbrotherbrotherloverbrother…_

'You know what? Let's just go see Caroline. I don't think I can handle this Xena Princess Warrior attitude from you right now.'

'Fine.'

'Fine.'


	21. Chapter 21

The tension was enough to make her explode. Not the unresolved sexual tension that Angela always seemed to refer to, but the bad, uncomfortable kind that made all her muscles coil and her nerves set on edge. On one side she had Tony, who was still maintaining the polite veneer of civility though she knew the words they had said to each other had hurt him deeply.

_Ziva isn't Kate Tony. I can see it in your eyes, the way you look at her._

_The same way you look at Booth?_

_Booth is my…_

_See, you can't even bring yourself to say it. _

_This discussion isn't about me._

_It isn't going to be about me either Dr. Brennan. I don't need your pity._

_Of all people Tony, did you really think I would be the one to give that to you?_

On the other, Booth was subjecting her to his own form of silent treatment. Their meeting with Caroline hadn't helped, the prosecutor's snippy remarks agitating the both of them. Brennan knew that whatever irritation that he was feeling would dissipate and they would both be back to where they were before. _Partners. _That description of their relationship was beginning to make her frustrated again.

But in the mean time, all Brennan wanted to do was lock herself up in Limbo and start working on the backlog she knew was still there. She wanted to forget that feeling of jealousy that had unmistakenably wormed its way through her stomach and her insides when she had heard Dalton's words to her partner. She wanted a nice, chocolate sundae with praline and nuts.

So now here they were, ringed outside the mausoleum, waiting for Gibbs, Ziva and McGee to arrive with the warrant since McGee and Ziva's interview with Torrance's had proved uninformative. Booth was slouched against the Tahoe, sunglasses on and his arms crossed. Tony stood a few metres away from her, adjusting his ballcap so that the sun didn't get into his eyes. This, of course, was one of Gibbs' cryptic messages to deal with whatever personal problems they had. The minute they had arrived back at the Jeffersonian, Gibbs had raised a sardonic eyebrow at her.

'I guess this is the part where we hold hands and sing kumbaya?' Tony's sarcastic question was overlaid with genuine remorse.

'Neither of us are the singing type,' Brennan replied cautiously. Sucking in a breath, she chanced that first gamble. 'I'm sorry about – I had no right to bring up Kate the way I did.'

Tony didn't say anything for a second, and Brennan felt her heart drop. Her partner was still positioned against his SUV, though his body now seemed to be aimed towards Tony and her. She snorted internally. Obviously, Booth was still threatened.

'I saw the bullet go through her head. One minute we were kidding around, and the next I had her blood and brains splattered across my face.'

'Tony-' Brennan started, seeing the pain visibly etched across his face.

'You know how Gibbs has all those rules?' Tony queried. Brennan nodded. 'I'm pretty sure that was why he had number twelve.'

Brennan felt a small part of her heart ache. _Thinking_ about how Tony felt about Kate, and _knowing _were two entirely different things. Now it was real, more definite. 'I didn't…I shouldn't have…' She struggled, trying to come up with something that sounded right to her ears.

'It's better to hold yourself apart. I mean, we already know what this job does to us. Sometimes you sit there and wonder why you're even here. The pay sucks, benefits aren't anything to shout at either.'

'My accountant told me to set up a tax shelter in the Cayman Islands,' Brennan offered, smiling slightly, hoping to ease away some of the seriousness that was painted over Tony's features. 'I just want to see you happy Anthony.'

'Happiness is a Swedish sunset -- it is there for all, but most of us look the other way and lose it.'

'Mark Twain,' Brennan said, placing the quote.

'When we see happiness,' Tony looked at her when he said this, 'we look the other way. How hard is it to be disappointed when your expectations are so low?'

Brennan could appreciate that. This was why she saw any kind of romantic attachment as a chemical reaction. It was best to make it all sound so clinical and detached than to pontificate about fate and black magic like Booth did. When they had walked away, it had made it easier to bear. The forensic anthropologist already half-expected them too, was preparing herself for when they did. She didn't feel that all encompassing disappointment, hurt and anger that happened whenever a foster family decided they didn't want her anymore. She could stuff all her belongings into her garbage bag, get into the car with Thomas, and pretend that her life wasn't as erratic and unstable as Brennan herself was.

'You make us sound depressed and cynical,' Brennan told him dryly, watching his mouth kick up in response.

'I like to think we're optimists who are pretty pessimistic. Which is why I'm going to stick by rule number twelve, which you've already decided to break.'

'No, I haven't,' Brennan hastily denied.

'Please,' Tony told her, scoffing. 'If Booth had laser vision right now, I'd be deader than a doornail.'

'That made no sense at all. A doornail is already an inanimate object incapable of any kind of normal-'

'Like I said before Tempe, we both have demons. Some are small, yeah, but most of them are big and ugly.'

'But we can exorcise them,' Brennan said, twisting his words from before. 'If there's anyone more stubborn than me, it's you.'

'But do you really want to?'

That made her pause. Did she really want to put everything that had happened to her under a microscope? To analyze and remember them in such excruciating detail that she'd be able to barely think before recalling how she had tried to block out all the hurtful things the kids at school had called her, the falsely sympathetic looks her foster parents had given her trying to explain why she didn't fit into their new plans, the feel of Charlie's hands on her…

'No.' Her timbre was controlled, neutral. 'But I think-' a glance at Booth, '-I like to think that'd I'd try.'

Her answer elicited a faint look of shock from Tony, before that familiar DiNozzo grin made its way onto his face when the sounds of tires screeching floated into their ears. Brennan watched as Booth pushed himself off, hands in pockets as he slowly made his way towards them, and saw Tony's mask slide back into place.

'I know I'm not the most socially inept person, but we're friends, and I want to be able to help you.' Her voice was barely a whisper and she was afraid that it would be drowned out by the sharp sounds of barked orders and slamming doors and dragging feet.

'This isn't a one way street either. And you're not the most socially inept person I know. Probie has that title cornered.'

His friendly touch on the back of her neck was light and fast, but she drew comfort from it.

Her touch was much longer and lingered a second more and the sincere smile she got from Tony made some of that tension dissolve.

'Alright, I declare this campfire over.'

She had to laugh at that.


	22. Chapter 22

'Alright, I declare this campfire over.'

The sound of Brennan's laughter washed over him, smoothing away some of the irritation that he had been feeling seeing Tony and her engaged in what had looked to be a serious discussion. It was kind of like the discussions they had at the diner after a case, where they would look at each other and try and dig their way through all the barriers they both had erected. She would steal his fries and he would pretend to be angry. Then she would ask him to eat a salad, at which point he would politely refuse and then proceed to take a large bite of his extremely meaty burger.

Booth watched as the smile receded slightly from Brennan's face as he approached them, though it was still there when he placed himself beside her. Looking down at the ground, Booth noticed her shoes were scuffed around the edges.

'McGee, you're with me,' Gibbs said, pointing to the NCIS team. 'The rest of you can secure the perimeter.'

Booth frowned. 'With all due respect Agent Gibbs, this is supposed to be a _joint _investigation.'

'I'm executing a warrant Booth, not interrogating a murder suspect.'

'I don't like being rail-roaded, especially when _my _team's doing just as much as yours,' Booth shot back, removing his sunglasses.

'I believe you mean _my _team, don't you Booth? Because, technically, the team is located at the Jeffersonian-'

'Not now Bones,' Booth whispered harshly.

'Look, you interviewed Dalton. I'm just doing my share.'

Booth looked at Gibbs, who returned his stare unflinchingly.

'Fine, but if you find anything…' Booth conceded, realizing that Gibbs wasn't trying to be difficult on purpose. Interagency investigations always gave him a headache, and so far NCIS hadn't proved to be as cumbersome as, say, the BAU or CIA. God, he hated spooks.

'He appears uncomfortable,' Brennan said, once Gibbs and a somewhat nervous looking McGee were swallowed up by the mausoleum entrance. 'His body language is showcasing all the necessary indicators.'

'He was speaking with Director Shepherd just before we arrived,' Ziva remarked, smirking slightly. 'Apparently Colonel Mann thought that this was crossing over into CID investigation and wanted to know if she would be allowed to consult. Obviously, Gibbs was not at all happy with this idea.'

'I don't buy Gibbs and Mann,' Tony retorted, leaning against a pillar. Booth was pleased to note that Brennan had shifted her body unconsciously closer towards his.

'They together or something?' Booth asked, curious. The dynamic between the squints and the NCIS major case team had left him feeling a bit like an outsider, an intruder encroaching on the shared understanding that the two teams had developed without him. He understood that he couldn't interject himself forcefully into the equation, so he was cautiously feeling his way in. So far, Booth had been pleased to find that he was making some progress – aside from his somewhat cool treatment of DiNozzo.

'Or something,' Tony answered. 'I don't buy it. For one thing, she's not a redhead.'

'Human beings are creatures of habit, yes,' Brennan stated. 'But they are also prone to evolve and develop new inclinations. Take Booth for instance. Normally, he would have used his natural charisma and symmetrical features to manipulate Dalton into signing the forms.'

Booth gritted his teeth.

'That wouldn't have been professional Bones. And I _do not _manipulate.'

Brennan looked at him with something akin to surprise colouring her face. 'That's completely untrue! As I recall, Cam-'

'Would you excuse us for a minute?' Booth inquired, ensuring that he was polite when he gripped his partner's forearm and dragged her towards the Tahoe, ignoring her protestations.

'Booth! That was-'

'_What _is your problem?'

Brennan's mouth dropped open slightly. 'I'm not the one manhandling-'

'Does it matter if I flirt with a woman Bones? Tell me, why does it bother you so much huh?'

'It doesn't bother me.'

Booth felt his blood start to heat. 'Like hell it doesn't,' he said, teeth clenched together so tight that he could feel his jaw tense.

'Well, then tell me why is it that you continue to treat any man that even speaks to me with contempt?' Booth opened his mouth, but Brennan steamrolled right through him. 'Don't think I haven't noticed that you _still _have not divested yourself of this incredibly irrational dislike of Tony!'

Booth saw her laughing, saw Tony smile down at her, and saw that intense look of concentration she bestowed on the other man when he spoke to her.

'He's…look at him Bones! He speaks to you like he knows you, as if he understands…' Booth trailed off, seeing the stony look on Brennan's face.

'Booth, you had a happy childhood. Your parents, your brother – you had a _family_.'

'So do you,' Booth reminded her. _His dad drinking from his soup mug, words slurring, fists descending…_Now wasn't the time.

'My mother is dead. My father is in _jail_. Russ is…god, I don't even know where Russ is,' Brennan said, laughing bitterly. 'Since I was fifteen, I've had _no one_. Those foster parents, until you've experienced it, you can't even _begin_ to imagine what it was like. No one caring whether you ate or slept, whether the kids at school tormented you until…I was just a cheque. A meal-ticket that was disposable.'

Booth gaped slightly.

'Tony…Tony knows what its like not to have anymore. His team…they're all he has. That's his family, and I'm a part of that family as well. Last year, when we had to stay at the lab and you couldn't see Parker-'

Remorse. Shame. Booth was pretty sure that was what was creeping up on him.

'-did you ever stop and think that _I _had no one? That when you got home, and you had all these messages from people who love you wishing you well for Christmas, that I was at the lab because I had nowhere else to be?'

'Bones-'

He remembered how everyone had had visitors on Christmas Eve. He recalled seeing Brennan standing on the steps, smiling sadly, but not really noticing because of Parker. And then later at Wong Foo's, he had left her, _alone_, at the bar so he could enjoy what little time he had left with his son. Not wondering what she was going to do the rest of the day, whether she _had _anything to do. After all, she had just given answers to a family that had long since lost hope. This was Bones – nothing else mattered, right?

'No,' she told him sharply. 'I'm not asking you to feel guilty or to take some kind of pity on me. I'm telling you that Tony understands what its like to have everything you've ever known just fall out from under you, understands what its like to find yourself completely alone without anyone. It's something that I hope you'll never have to experience, and something which I'm going to make sure Parker never has to. You keep telling me that I should depend on people more, that I should let people in and let them know how I feel. Well,' Brennan was shaking her head. 'I'm sorry that I can't do that. I had to learn how to be self-contained because that way, that way I can…'

Tony is my _friend_ Booth,' Brennan said firmly. 'All I'm asking is that you show him the same respect and courtesy that he's showing you. He knows how important you are to me, and his deference to you should be reciprocated.'

_I'm important to her? _Those words made his heart swell just a bit.

'Booth!' Gibbs' voice appeared to startle Brennan enough to make a slow flush of red start to show on her porcelain skin.

'Temperance-'

'_Booth_!' The older man's voice was more insistent now and Booth cursed at him under his breath.

'I think we should go before he gets mad,' Brennan said softly, face turned to the side.

Reaching out impulsively, Booth grasped her hand. Running his thumb softly over her knuckles, Booth sucked in a deep breath.

'That talk after the case? I think we _both _have things we need to say,' Booth confessed. The hand in his tensed before relaxing.

'And Bones?' He made sure her eyes were on his before he finished. 'You'll _always _be part of my family, don't ever doubt that.'

He remembered the way the sun brought out the gold in her hair, the way her lips curved. Most importantly, he remembered the way her eyes changed to a soft, corn-flower blue – the 'that meant she understood what he was saying and was willing to listen' blue.

It was one of his favourites.


	23. Chapter 23

_Stupid. Stupid. Stupid._

Brennan blamed it on the nightmares. She had been bordering on the precipice of exhaustion ever since Miguel had turned up.

She would close her eyes and she would be transported back into that room – those white walls, the yellow lace curtains, the battered wooden furniture – and Charlie would be there. His hands…they would creep, slide and invade. And Brennan could do nothing but watch herself succumb, submit to something that made her eyes fly open at two in the morning, her breath heaving, her fingers scrabbling the sheets.

The showers she took never seemed to be enough. Brennan let her hand graze over her thigh, knowing the raw skin underneath. She had scrubbed and scrubbed until her epidermis had simply pinked and slid off like a cocoon.

She still felt unclean.

Yes, exhaustion was what had contributed towards her outburst at the mausoleum. Surely Booth understood that she would never willingly volunteer such information, as he often reminded her early on in their partnership.

_You have to give something in return Bones._

Well, Brennan felt sure she had given all she needed to. Despite the feelings that Booth inspired in her, he didn't need to be privy to whatever emotional struggles she was dealing with. Those were _her _troubles, those crushing weights that she always felt pressing down on her shoulders. Yes, she worked so that the victims could attain justice. But she also worked to escape.

Miguel had been right. Science was her refuge. All those years being bounced from home to home, her fascination with how things worked; with _why _they worked the way they did allowed her a semblance of stability. Science was something that could not be taken away from her. It had become such a part of her, entwined and hardwired into her genetic material that it almost seemed impossible to envision a time when she hadn't been able to name all the bones in the human body.

The thought of her foster brother brought another tired sigh to Brennan's lips. She had barely heard from Miguel in days, save for a quick phone call she had received last night to tell her that he needed to leave Washington for a bit. He had promised to return, but Brennan found herself wishing he hadn't. Tony had said it was best to keep expectations low. She did not want to think what it would feel like if Miguel simply never came back, just like before.

And Booth wanted to _talk_. Of course, she had initiated such a course of action. But now that he had acknowledged it, discussing how she felt about herself, about _them_, was filling her with a sense of panic.

'The bodies are ready Doc. Ducky's waiting on us,' Gibbs called from the entrance of her office. Brennan glanced up startled.

'What?' She murmured. 'Oh, of course. I'll…Give me a minute.'

'You haven't been sleeping.'

It was phrased as a statement, not a question. Discussions with Gibbs often seemed that way.

'I would need _some _sleep to function Jethro.'

A short laugh. 'You having nightmares?'

Brennan hesitated for a second before swiftly buttoning up her lab coat.

'Don't we all?'

As she walked past him, she saw Booth straighten up from his position on the platform. Their eyes met for a minute and Brennan felt that same inexplicable pull between them. Quickly averting her eyes, she disregarded the quirk of Tony's brow.

'Now that Temperance is here, I believe we can commence.'

'Where are Hodgins, McGee and Abby?' Brennan asked, noticing their absence.

'The nerd squad said something about an experi-'

'_Stop_.' Cam raised a hand. 'I'm going to pretend I did not hear that Tony.'

'What did you find Ducky?' Brennan asked, aware that Booth was favouring her with his eyes.

'Well, together with the remains that Jethro found today, and assuming that these bodies were the result of a mass murder, a certain element of consistency would be expected,' Ducky remarked, waving a hand over the five skeletons laid out on the forensic platform.

Brennan looked at the older man.

'Shot, stabbed, strangled, bludgeoned, and poor Miss Undetermined Torrance. Three women, two men. Ages ranging from nineteen to seventy. Three are Caucasian, one Asian, and one Black.'

'So no common traits?' Booth ventured.

'The blood…they settled on different surfaces on each of the bodies,' Brennan observed, leaning closer towards one of the tables.

'Her left thigh and back. His chest and buttocks,' Jimmy said significantly.

'They were moved,' Gibbs answered Palmer's unspoken question.

'The indentations located in the ankles here and here…' A chill stole over Brennan. 'These people were chained.'

'Yes, I believe the bodies were suspended and drained, prior to being, well… there's only one word for it.' Ducky's face was weary and repulsed.

'Butchered,' Brennan offered, feeling her stomach churn. The depravity, the cruelty that humans could inflict on one another still astounded her.

'We sent tissue samples to Abby. Hopefully she can tell us something, along with you guys,' Gibbs said, nodding his head towards Cam. His cell rang. Brennan saw the NCIS team leader's face darken when he caught a glimpse of the caller ID.

_Director_. Tony mouthed the word.

Clearing his throat, Tony shifted his foot. 'So, the only thing these guys have in common is how they were taken apart. Torrance, nineteen-year-old runaway from Florida, thirty-year-old prostitute.'

'No next of kin for either,' Ziva caught on.

'Wade Carlin from Georgetown. Broke up with his girlfriend. Parents thought he was taking the great American roadtrip when he was actually stabbed a few weeks after.' Booth pulled a face, disbelief evident.

'All missing persons cases. All roads to nowhere,' Tony pointed out.

'Until now.' Booth's tone suggested something significant. 'Gloria Grady. Age seventy-two. Ducky says she was the first victim. Blunt trauma. Only one relative, her son, Len Grady.'

Recognition seemed to fill Ziva's eyes. 'The man from before. The one with the lilies?'

'What kind?' Brennan questioned, earning incredulous looks from all three as she remembered the pale faced man who had been clutching a bouquet of flowers when Booth and her had rejoined them at the foot of the mausoleum steps. 'There are over a hundred and ten species.'

'Tempe, guys don't notice what kind of flowers someone has. It's just…not very manly.'

Brennan blinked at Tony while Ziva let out an amused snort.

'Nonetheless, it makes sense to bring lilies. They symbolize that the soul of the departed has received restored innocence after death.' Brennan heard her voice peter out.

_Innocence. _

'There isn't any record of a Grady at James River,' Booth muttered.

Charlie's hands on her.

'Lilies are feminine. The kind you would give to a woman,' Ziva threw in.

_Lost. _

'Like Grady's mother?'

'Could be visiting his trophies,' Booth retorted at Tony's suggestion. 'Fits the profile from what I saw of him. Thirties, single, white.'

Charlie's moans as he-

Her hand flew up to her mouth.

Brennan turned and ran.


	24. Chapter 24

**a/n: I'm basing Brennan's reactions off research. If you have any helpful suggestions or resources or what not, please feel free to let me know.**

**And if anyone here watches soccer, and supports the Arsenal like I do, we actually managed to win a game. Barely. But a win is a win. Cesc we can ******

Booth had only lasted a second before he had hared off after his partner, leaving Tony and Ziva behind with stunned looks on their faces.

One minute they had been talking about lilies, and the next thing he knew Brennan was practically bolting down the steps of the forensic platform. Raking his brain as he followed her blue lab coat, Booth struggled to come up with anything that was moderately distressing in their conversation.

Well, more so than usual. They _did _investigate murder after all.

The FBI agent had tried calling out Brennan's name numerous times, but to no avail. In fact, he thought he saw her actually quicken her pace.

Then she had disappeared behind the doors of the women's restroom.

So now here he was, stuck outside trying to decide whether to go in. Going in meant seeing Brennan, comforting Brennan, finding out what was wrong with Brennan. It also heightened the possibility of other women being inside and slapping a sexual harassment suit on him.

_What is wrong with you? The woman you…Bones is…_

Mind made up, Booth sucked in a deep breath and pushed open the door.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he took comfort in the fact that no one had screamed yet. 'I'm just here to make sure Dr. Brennan is alright. No need to bring out the pepper spray or mace or anything remotely resembling liquid fire.'

He only heard labored breathing in response. Cracking open one chocolate brown iris, Booth noticed that there was no one inside. Seeing that there was no threat, he took a giant stride towards the flash of blue in one of the cubicles.

'_Bones_,' he almost moaned, seeing her bent over the porcelain bowl. The knuckles on her hands were white and he saw her frame shaking uncontrollably. His mind instantly recalled seeing those that had survived tours with him come back, their large, bulky frames succumbing to these attacks.

Kneeling down beside her, Booth gently pushed back the few strands of her that had fallen into her face. He saw her flinch away from him, her attempt at shielding her face from his view negated by the quick, ragged gasps of air she was being forced to take.

'Don't fight it Bones, alright?' He told her, gentle and keeping his voice low. 'I need you to breathe for me, okay? Slowly.'

Some of the trembling seemed to die down.

'Now breathe in for about six seconds and then hold your breath for the same amount of time. Can you do that for me Temperance? Nice and easy. That's my girl.'

Booth didn't know how much time had passed when Brennan finally relinquished her grip on the toilet. He saw the furrow between her brows smooth away, though the blood that had slithered out of her face remained that way. Reaching out, Booth tentatively touched her shoulder, unsure how she would react.

'Seeley?' That breathless, timid voice saying his name was almost his undoing.

'I'm right here babe.' The endearment slipped out without him noticing. 'Feeling better?'

A slight nod of her head.

'That's okay. Take your time.'

It was killing him. He wanted to tuck her under his chin and press her body to his. He wanted to smooth down the planes of her back and thread his fingers through her hair.

Instead, they sat there – Booth concerned, Brennan with her eyes downcast and her body limp.

'The lilies, they restore innocence,' Brennan's quiet words seemed to echo through the room. Booth noted that it smelled like a sanitized forest. 'He…he took away my innocence.'

Booth froze. He already knew who she was referring to.

'I should have been able to do _more_!' Suddenly her voice reached a crescendo, cracking across like a ricochet. 'Why didn't I fight? Why didn't I kick or scratch or do _anything_?'

His stomach twisted. 'Bones, you were only fifteen-'

'_It doesn't matter_! I let him take control over me. I just let him have this…this _power _that he shouldn't have had!

'I can still hear the television. That tinny, mass produced laughter that seems to be on every sitcom. And Jennifer letting the water run…Why didn't she do anything? Why didn't she _protect _me?'

Booth saw her azure eyes start to glisten.

'I can't do this anymore Booth.' She sounded pained, defeated. 'I close my eyes and that's all I'm seeing. Feeling. _Reliving_. He's taken over my _life_. You told me that this was part of me now, but I don't – it _can't _be. I didn't ask for this to be part of my life! I didn't _want _it to be part of my life! I just wanted…I just…'

And then she broke. Booth saw her body fold like an accordion, her body doubling over as if her spine had turned to jelly. Without hesitation, without a second thought, Booth took her into his arms. Her body rocked as she sobbed, each sound making him pull her tighter and closer towards him.

'Temperance, listen to me.' He felt her tighten the hold on his lapels in response. '_This wasn't your fault._ Charlie was a sick bastard that deserves to have a needle in his arm or a bullet between his eyes. Whatever he did, it was because of _him_. What _he _did was wrong. You were a fifteen-year-old girl who wanted a new family.

'I know you said you've tried to overcome it. But just because you try, doesn't mean that it's-'

He felt and heard her start to protest.

'I'm not saying you haven't tried hard enough. You're one of the most courageous people I know Bones. Sure, sometimes I wish you weren't _so _courageous-

Memories of her being hung on a hook, Kenton with a chipped Swiss Army knife in his hand.

'- but it doesn't lessen the fact that you've got this amazing talent of accomplishing anything you set your mind to. But there are some things you can't do by yourself. Sometimes, even those with guts like yours need a shoulder to lean on.'

He let his words sink in, taking comfort that Brennan hadn't karate chopped him in the throat or demanded that he leave her.

'I just – I just want –'

Hearing the frustration, Booth quickly sought to reassure her. 'Hey, we don't have to talk or do anything right now unless you want to alright? This is about _you_, not me.'

_I'm just glad you trust me enough to share this with me._

Her nose brushed the thin material of his business shirt and Booth had to refrain from shivering, feeling the small electrical charge her actions generated.

The door to the restroom creaked open, its hinges making a low grating sound. Brennan didn't stir from his arms as Booth registered the shocked expression on Angela's face. Sending her what he hoped was a look that conveyed he had everything under control, he saw the forensic artist's face dawn in comprehension. Nodding, she quietly closed the door behind her. Well, at least he knew now no one would be disturbing them lest they wished to incur the wrath of Montenegro.

'Thank you Seeley.'

'Anytime Bones. Anytime.'

Booth pressed her further into his body as Brennan's cheek settled against his chest. He tried to control the acceleration of his heart. Smoothing down her hair, which felt like spun silk, he pressed a kiss to her temple.

Sometimes he wished they could stay this way forever.


	25. Chapter 25

_This is about _you_, not me._

Then he had deflected the questions she had seen in everyone's eyes, giving her the space she needed to recover and regroup. Booth had brought her a glass of water and asked her if there was anything else she needed.

Brennan wholeheartedly wished that he wasn't being so nice. Incapacitating him would make her feel a lot less guilty otherwise.

They were currently on the way to Len Grady's house. Abby and Hodgins had found cholrine in Torrance's tissue. A little digging unearthed the fact that Grady not only had a pool cleaning business, but that he had been Torrance's pool cleaner. From there, it had been easy enough to get a warrant tying him to his mother's and Torrance's deaths.

Brennan closed her eyes and rested her head against the window of the car. Tony had gaped in shock when she had consented to ride with Ziva. But the less than surreptitious glances that Booth kept shooting her way, as if she were a blown glass ornament, was beginning to wear on her nerves. While she appreciated that he had allowed her to humiliate herself in front of him, Brennan did not want to acknowledge how comforted she had been by him.

She _couldn't_.

The radio hummed quietly and Brennan was once again grateful that Ziva was quiet. It compensated for the blaring horns and sharp, sudden turns the Mossad officer seemed to relish whenever she got behind the wheel. Already accustomed to Gibbs driving, she didn't really see how Ziva's was any different.

'Are you alright Temperance?'

So much for quiet.

'I just had some bad food,' Brennan replied, remembering what Booth had said.

A period of silence elapsed that lulled Brennan into a false sense of security.

'In Mossad, sometimes you are required to do things that you do not wish to do,' Ziva said, refusing to look in her direction. 'I was in Paris, undercover. I was told to distract our target. He was…he had been drinking. He forced himself on me.'

_Oh_.

'My partner could hear everything. He told me to endure it. Orders were orders.'

Brennan didn't say "I'm sorry". She knew how spurious those words were.

'I haven't had an attack in years. Sometimes, I feel like I should. It does not get easier, this thing that we carry inside us. But it also does not get harder.'

The car came to a stop when the light turned red.

'What I am trying to say, my friend, is that you should not shoulder this burden alone. Let Booth help.'

'Do you let Tony?' Brennan snapped back, instantly regretting it when she saw the brief flash of hurt on Ziva's face.

'Tony and I do not have the same kind of relationship that you do with Agent Booth.' Brennan thought she could hear regret in her words. 'He looks at you like how a man should look at a woman. Tony, I think, sometimes sees me as a poor substitute for his former friend.'

'Tony doesn't see you that way,' Brennan heard herself murmur. Ziva's mouth stretched into a mordant half-smile.

'Just think about what I have said.'

Hearing the other woman shift the gear into park, Brennan noticed they had arrived at Grady's residence. Stepping out of the car, she took note of the overgrown weeds and unkempt garden. The house itself seemed to be swallowed by rampant green, flashes of yellowed white paint and ragged windows coming through now and then.

'Doesn't look like anyone's home Boss. The neighbours said he went out about an hour ago. What do we do?' Tony asked, stepping into a pale wash of light. Gibbs and Booth stood next to him, staring at the dark house.

'We wait,' Ziva proffered. Tony pinched his eyes at her. Ziva returned the gesture.

'Okay. What did Director Shepherd want Boss?'

'We wait _silently_,' Gibbs said in response to Tony's question. Ziva smirked.

'I got him,' Booth muttered, drawing his gun. 'Bones, stay here.'

Brennan opened her mouth to argue but they were already gone. She saw the four Agents fan out, splitting into pairs and inching towards the house.

'Len Grady! Freeze!' Booth barked. Brennan saw the pale-skinned man clearly in the dark. His eyes widened and he took off running in the opposite direction. Calculating the trajectory of his run in her head, she quietly followed after him.

'Federal agents!' Tony's cry floated to her.

Brennan heard him easily. Waiting, she stuck out her foot. Grady tumbled violently to the ground, elbows snapping against the pavement.

'Stop or I'll remove your testicles,' Brennan heard herself warn him, pressing the heel of her boot into his back.

'Geez Doc. We really gotta work on your cop talk,' Gibbs smiled at her, snapping on the cuffs. 'On your feet. Shouldn't have run smart guy. Only makes everything else you say or do after more suspicious.'

'_Bones_. I thought I told you-'

'Go check out the house. I'll bring this guy in,' Gibbs motioned, cutting off Booth's protest much to Brennan's relief.

'Channeling your inner Zhang Ziyi, I see,' Tony commented later as they entered Grady's house.

'I don't know what that means.'

'Of course you don't.' Booth's quiet reply drew a heated glare from her. What was his problem? It wasn't like she was hurt. In fact, she had helped apprehend a murder suspect.

'Bachelor living,' Tony remarked, taking in the bare walls and untidy piles of dishes and mail scattered throughout the living room. The air inside smelled musty, as if Grady had kept all his windows shut on purpose.

'He appears to have a card for everything. Painter. Fountain design,' Ziva announced, picking up a few cards from the coffee table.

'We should be looking for anything with a blade,' Brennan told them, wrinkling her nose at what looked like congealed blood from an especially rare steak. She saw several plates bearing remnants of what looked like meat. Grady must have really liked being a carnivore.

'So what was actually wrong with Abby?' Tony asked. Beside him, Booth donned a latex glove and opened a cutlery drawer.

'Why would anything be wrong with Abby?'

'You're kidding right?' Tony answered Ziva's innocent question. 'No woman gets that upset over candy.'

'She bought a wrong pair of shoes. I'm told that could upset a woman,' Brennan offered, remembering the hour long lecture she had endured from Angela about how a woman's feet were the platforms to her soul.

'She was practically crying. It's more than shoes,' Tony stated firmly. 'Oh c'mon! We're supposed to be a _team_. We don't hide secrets from each other!'

Brennan watched Ziva stiffen ever so slightly.

The Israeli had called herself a poor substitute of Kate. She was ashamed to admit that at the beginning she had thought the same thing. What right did this woman have, trying to replace someone she had known, respected and slowly started to love? She was sure that resentment had been keenly felt by Ziva, who had suffered through it without complaint.

Brennan had simply assumed that Ziva had been unaffected by it. She was sure Gibbs, Tony and Abby would have been hostile. At least, that was the impression she had gotten from Ducky. The ME and McGee had offered her polite friendship, the kind you give out when someone new tries to insinuate themselves into a close-knit group of people.

Now she knew how Ziva felt.

It was difficult to reconcile this new perception she had of Ziva with what she knew a half hour before. Brennan saw the way she carried herself, so composed and unscarred. They had suffered through the same thing – Ziva, she conceded, had probably suffered _more _– and here she was losing herself while the other woman appeared to be in control.

_God, what is wrong with me?_

'Anthony,' Brennan rebuked, jerking towards Ziva when Tony gave her an incredulous stare. Something about the woman must have clued him in because she saw the NCIS agent's brow pull together.

'I got something,' Booth declared. 'Looks like a white paper package tied with brown string.'

'What is that?' Brennan questioned, peering at the package more intently.

Booth slowly unwrapped it.

'Looks like we know who killed Porky Pig,' Tony joked.

Brennan was glad she was a vegetarian.


	26. Chapter 26

**a/n: an update! i need something to take my mind off the abysmal season arsenal have been having so far.**

Booth stared at the twitching man in front of him, absently noting as Gibbs leaned casually against the wall of the interrogation room. Grady's elbows were scraped, and Booth thought he saw small patches of blood congealed around the wound.

Remembering how Grady had gotten those cuts, his jaw clenched. Of course, he supposed he shouldn't have been at all surprised that Brennan had _yet again _ignored his warning to stay away from the source of danger. No, not Temperance. The woman seemed to make it her personal goal to run _towards _anything that was even remotely unsafe.

It didn't help that seeing her so helpless after her attack, watching her surprisingly delicate frame shake, was forcing his otherwise dormant overprotective streak to resurface. He had been careful so far to try and keep a tight rein on it – he remembered how victims often were grateful when simple tasks were done for them after an attack; it gave them time to regain their footing.

_Bones isn't a victim you numbskull. You'd be unable to father children again if she heard you say that._

His eyes went to the one-way mirror briefly, knowing that his partner was behind there with Ziva and Tony.

'So I can just go ahead and pay the fine and get out of here?' Grady's voice was shaky, nervous.

'Fine?' Booth asked, raising an eyebrow. What was he talking about? Murder was-

'I know I shouldn't have cashed in my mum's social security checks,' Grady replied, eyes shooting between Gibbs and him.

'We're not the IRS.' Gibbs' voice was wry. 'Your mother went missing in March.'

'She had dementia. It was getting worse. She probably got out went out one day and you know, forgot how to come back.'

'She's not a dog,' Booth bit out.

'I keep hoping she'll come back,' Grady said timidly, instinctively cowering away from the anger Booth knew was reflected on his face.

'You already know where to find her.' Booth saw confusion flash across Grady's face after Gibbs spoke. 'You brought her flowers. Lilies actually.'

'My mother's at the cemetery?'

'What's left of her. She was _dismembered_,' Booth answered.

'I didn't do it okay!' Booth detected a slight note of hysteria in Grady's voice. 'I fed her! I cleaned up after her! _I loved my mother_!'

Neither Booth or Gibbs were surprised when Grady slammed his fist onto the table, pupils dilated and blood rushing to his face.

'Maybe you were right the first time. It must have been like putting down a dog. Only no one ever noticed. Getting away with it must have been the most shocking part.' Booth didn't bother to hide his disgust. He couldn't imagine neglecting his mother that way, considering her as a burden.

'And a new career is born. Wade Carlin, Kelly Camara…' Gibbs trailed off.

'Okay. Stop.' Grady said, somewhere between a whisper and a yell.

Booth quirked his eyebrow inquisitively.

'All of these people were chopped up? That's disgusting. What kind of person do you think could do that? I mean, you're looking for a monster. What do you want me to say? It's not me.' Grady shook his head fiercely before looking up with something akin to determination on his face. 'What now? Want me to do a lie-detector test or something?'

'Someone will be by shortly,' Gibbs answered. Booth looked over at the older man, wondering if he too had noticed the relief that had begun to flood Grady's features.

Ignoring the protests emanating from the man, Booth closed the door behind him.

'He's telling the truth,' Booth finally said, turning over Grady's response in his mind.

'You telling me I'm wrong?' Gibbs questioned, opening the door to the observation room.

'He's telling the truth,' Booth heard Brennan say immediately upon their entrance. Sometimes it was eerie how much in sync they were. Gibbs gave them both an amused smirk.

'He was too…relieved when you connected his mother to the rest of the bodies. He appears detached,' Brennan told them both, her blue eyes flashing to his momentarily as if waiting for his judgment.

It amazed him sometimes how unsure she was of herself. Here was this woman with an extraordinary intellect and yet she still looked to him to guide her. Often, Booth would wonder how someone who studied human society for a living could consider herself so removed from it. It saddened him to think she saw herself more as an observer than as a participant.

'It doesn't mean he wasn't involved,' Tony pointed out as Booth flashed Brennan a small grin. Something warm settled when she gave him a tentative one back.

'Possibly,' Ziva said. 'But he doesn't look trapped. He looks like a man who knows he has a way out.'

'You mean there's something _worse _than that guy out there?' Tony hooked a thumb over his shoulder towards the interrogation room, disbelief and revulsion mingled together.

'I need to update the Director.' Booth noticed Gibbs didn't sound too thrilled and also noted how the other three tried to control the upward quirk of their lips. 'Booth, try and see if you can hold Grady.'

'Shouldn't be too hard,' Booth assured him as the NCIS team slowly made their way out.

Soon it was just the two of them and he tried desperately to mask the scrutinizing stare he was giving her.

'Booth.' Brennan said his name as if it were a reprimand.

'I know you know what I'm going to ask but I'm going to ask it anyway.' Booth angled his body towards her. 'How are…you feeling better?' The words sounded weak even to his ears.

'I'm _fine_.' Her reply was expected.

'It isn't wrong to show weakness Bones.'

Booth saw that tell-tale crease appear in her forehead. 'I've survived worse Booth.'

_She had _what?

Brennan appeared to realize what she had said. 'I appreciate your concern but if –'

'I want to help you Bones. You're…' Booth struggled to find a neutral word to describe his love for her.

'Important.'

Her face softened. 'I never said thank you.'

'You don't have to.' He resisted the urge to rub his neck.

'It's nice knowing that someone cares for you.' Her words were so low Booth wasn't sure he was meant to hear them. Brennan sighed.

_She deserves better than a former Ranger with literal skeletons in his closet._

'Ever since I told you about Charlie you've been…'

'That's what partners do Bones,' Booth told her, giving in to the impulse and tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

'Partners.' The frustration evident in her words made him frown.

'What-'

'We should go. I'll see you back in the lab,' Brennan mumbled, turning away abruptly and darting out the open door.

Leaving him standing there. Again.

_What the hell just happened?_


	27. Chapter 27

Partner - one who is united or associated with another in an activity or a sphere of common interest.

Brennan had once thought that the word summed up her relationship with Booth perfectly. After all, when they had first met she thought he was nothing but an arrogant jackanape. With his designer suits, ostentatious ties and shiny shoes, Booth had projected an air of skeptical disbelief that anything that her lab could do was helpful to him in any way.

She, of course, had responded in turn. Brennan had ensured her icy exterior was present whenever she interacted with Booth. She was curt, abrupt and abrasive. They had been constantly at each others throats as both had fought to prove to the other that they were worthy. They were the best in their field and neither wanted to concede ground.

Now, though, the word seemed…impersonal.

Brennan could safely say that Booth was one of the most important people in her life, and she was sure he would say the same. They were more than just an FBI agent and a forensic anthropologist. They were Temperance and Seeley. They were…they were…

'Bones?' Of course he would speak now. Brennan shut her eyes and opened them to see Tony, Ziva, Gibbs and McGee regarding her with amusement. She could feel the blood rushing to her face.

'Yes?' She asked, trying to appear as if she knew what they had been talking about. Beside her, Booth raised his eyebrow while Tony openly snickered. Brennan decided to glare at the Italian.

'Like I was saying, we've got to push Grady harder on what he knows,' Booth finally said, drawing everyone's attention towards him. Noticing how _close _she was next to Booth, Brennan attempted to put a few more inches of space between them.

If the man was too thick-headed to notice she was interested, she could try and ignore the electrical field that always seemed to surround Booth.

Gibbs shook his head. 'He won't. He's protecting himself.'

'We've been trying to run down Grady's van. Nothing so far,' Tony remarked.

'You apprehended him on _foot_,' Brennan told him dryly.

'So what did he do with his ride then?' Tony challenged.

'And when did he do it.'

'After he spotted us at the cemetery,' Ziva answered Booth's unasked question. 'But…perhaps he wanted information. It seems too…_clean _for him to have been there while we were there.'

'He was watching us,' McGee said. 'And if he got there as quickly as we did – he's got a friend on the inside!'

'One person's a psychopath. Two people's a conspiracy. So who is he talking to? Grady doesn't leave here until we know everything about him. You start with yesterday and you work backwards,' Gibbs all but barked out.

'I'll just…go see Abby then,' McGee managed to spit out before hurrying out the door, quickly followed by the rest of the NCIS team. Brennan sent Gibbs a pleading look which he promptly ignored.

Fantastic.

Brennan cleared her throat, swiftly rising from the seat and heading towards her desk. Maybe if she pretended Booth wasn't here, he would disappear to the Hoover building and do whatever federal agent bureaucratic-

'So are you going to tell me why you're acting weird? _Again_?' Booth's questions made her want to pinch the bridge of her nose.

'I have no idea what you're talking about.'

He snorted. 'I thought we were past being evasive.'

'And I thought you were supposed to be perceptive,' Brennan retorted before realizing the filter in her brain had once again decided to shut off in Booth's presence.

'What the hell is that supposed to mean?'

'Nothing.' Brennan let out a sigh. The conversation that they were about to have was too delicate, too fragile for her to have right now. She needed time to analyze the pros and cons. She needed to actually try another one of her experiments to test her hypotheses.

Because everything she had right now pointed towards one thing, but her heart refused to accept that Booth had more-than-partnerly feelings towards her.

What if he didn't? What if everything she _thought _she was seeing was simply a product of her imagination? Maybe because she wanted something to be true, in her mind it _was _true?

Something that resembled resolve coloured Booth's face.

'What are you doing?' She asked when he stormed over to close her door. She heard the lock turn and the blinds snap shut as he pulled them down.

'I can't wait for after the case anymore. _Something _is going on here. And I'm not just talking about murder and people being strung up like fairy lights.' Booth's voice was steadily increasing. 'Everytime I speak to you it's like we're taking this gigantic step backward Bones.It's like you've decided on something and everything I do is _wrong _somehow.'

So maybe he wasn't as thick-headed as she had thought.

'Yesterday when I wore that particularly alluring shirt you failed to mention anything to me,' she blurted out the first thing that came to her mind. To Brennan's surprise, she saw Booth's face flush. He muttered something about it being unprofessional.

'Is telling me I look nice sacrilegious to your sanctified line Booth?' The sarcasm dripped off her words.

'_That's _what this is about?' The incredulous way he said it made her mouth tighten.

She was done pretending. Brennan decided, for once in her life, to choose her own path without thinking of the consequences. Let the chips fall where they may.

'Stop calling me your partner,' she started. 'Partners are two people in a business endeavour. We're…we're more than that. I've been trying to see whether you feel the same way but I for one am tired of trying to analyze whether you do or do not regard me as a woman who you might have feelings for.'

Brennan was treated to the rare sight of Seeley Booth speechless.

'By all accounts, I have the necessary data. You care about whether I've eaten. You enquire about my day. You let me cry all over you or hug you whenever I need to. I understand that this might all seem nothing more than what one friend would do for another.'

Booth's expression was now pensive.

'But your jealousy gave you away. And the fact that you didn't arrest my father. You gave me back my brother. When you defend me. When you protect me. Those aren't things you do for someone whose your best friend. Those are things you do for someone you love.'

There. She had said the dreaded four-letter word. Not that she remotely knew what being in love felt like. The only example she had to go by was Sully, and what she thought she felt for Booth didn't hold a candle to what she had had with Booth's friend.

Why hadn't he said anything? Brennan felt her eyes widen and she twisted her wrists. Oh _God_. What if she had been wrong? Booth didn't feel that way about her. She could blame it on her recent episode. Yes, that seemed plausible. The exhaustion and Charlie and the case had made her delusional.

'Look Booth, I'm tired and I didn't-'

_Oh. Okay._

Brennan felt his lips on hers. As she sucked on his lower lip, she pulled him closer using his lapels.

Then all coherent thought fled her.

_Mmmm._


	28. Chapter 28

She tasted nothing at all like he had imagined. He thought it would be vanilla and sweetness to counteract the otherwise reticent demeanour she had on. Brennan had always been a study of contrasts and in this area he had expected no different.

Instead, Booth could feel cinnamon and something that seemed to resemble apple exploding in his mouth. And was that mint?

_Is this really the right time Ranger?_

Hearing Brennan moan he pressed his lips to that hollow between her jaw and neck and was rewarding with an interesting whimper. Smiling he smoothed his tongue over it and then blew slowly. This time she shivered, whimpered _and _moaned.

'_Seeley_.' The way she said his name made his belly slam against his spine.

When he felt her fingers linger on the waistband of his pants, he slowly started to remember where he was and what they were doing. He gently moved away from her, allowing her to capture his bottom lip before he pulled his lips back. Booth had to contain a smug look from crossing his face when he saw Brennan blink her eyes owlishly, lips swollen and full.

'We need to…' The words died when Brennan captured his lips. Gathering what he hoped was determination, Booth made sure he sounded forceful. 'Bones, we need to talk about this.'

He wished he had phrased it differently when he saw her eyes dull and her features took on what could only be described as vulnerability. 'If you're going to tell me that this was a mistake then I suggest you remember who kissed me first.'

Was it wrong to have kissed her? Granted the circumstances could have been a tad more romantic – Booth had always pictured soft music playing in the background and maybe candlelight – but hearing her say that _he _loved _her _had been his undoing. The fact that his own partner, who he had thought was generally clueless about the daily internal struggle he had been having off and on for the past few years, had put it out there in the open.

'I wasn't going to say this was a mistake Temperance,' he started softly, smoothing a stray curl along her forehead. Her defensive stance softened somewhat but Booth could tell she was still wary. While it cut somewhat to see that she still didn't wholeheartedly trust him with her heart, he reminded himself of what she had gone through.

And it wasn't like he had had much luck himself. A woman who had turned down his offer of marriage, a son he wished he could see more, a brief and intense reconnection with an old flame from New York…

'So I was right?'

Noticing that her eyes were shifted away from his, Booth closed his own. 'No point denying an ironclad hypothesis like that, is there?' When she didn't say anything, he kept talking. 'I do love you Bones, Temperance. For all the reasons that you said and more. I don't know when it happened, but one day it crept up and me and well...' A shrug.

'Why didn't you say anything? Did you think I was emotionally incapable of dealing with it?'

Being honest seemed like the right thing to do. 'Yes.' He winced when he saw the wounded expression on Brennan. 'I thought that you didn't see me the way I saw you. And let's face it, we've both become masters at hiding what we really feel through the years.' Booth ran his fingers through his hair, a nervous habit he had never really gotten rid of.

'You know you would have run the minute I told you I loved you Bones. Don't even try to deny it.'

Booth noticed that Brennan had managed to put a bit more space between them. Her hands pulled at the sleeves of her lab coat. She was fidgeting.

'You're right,' Brennan conceded, much to Booth's amazement. 'I would have reacted to the inhospitable environment your words would have created by trying to create distance between us.'

Booth let out a sigh. She was falling back on her squint speak and that never boded well. 'So now that we know that I love you-' Booth swallowed, '- how do _you _feel?'

'I don't know.' Booth saw that familiar look of frustration come over her as she looked at him. 'I know that you make me feel safe, and that I _want _to be near you all the time. You make me smile and laugh and look at the world in this way that I never would have contemplated before.' Maybe he was imagining the awe on her face as she spoke. 'And there are times when I want to kick you when you do something reckless or stupid. There are times when I want to hug you for bringing my family back to me. There are times when I want to hold you when you look like you need to be held.'

Booth's breath hitched at that.

Brennan was shaking her head, chin touching her collarbone. 'I've never felt this way before and it confuses me. Angela tells me that it's because you're the Angel to my Cordelia.' Her face scrunched up. 'I'm fairly sure I don't know what that means exactly, but I understand the basic concept behind it.'

This incredible woman in front of him looked so lost and helpless that all Booth wanted to do was take her into his arms. Realizing that they had already exchanged copious amounts of saliva and he had massaged her throat with his tongue, he gave in to the impulse.

'We've got time for you to figure it out.' Booth knew he was going to have to be patient but he had already wasted three years contemplating what ifs. 'I'm not going anywhere.'

'You've said that before.' A beat. 'I'm not good at this Booth. The men in my life-'

'Men. As in _past _tense. We're in this together Bones. We'll work through it, even if it kills us.'

'So what does it mean?' Brennan asked from beneath his chin, her head tucked into the nook of his neck. Booth sighed, pressing his cheek to her hair.

'I want more than biological imperatives Bones. I'm not going to be the guy who only sees the inside of your bedroom and nothing else. I want the whole relationship shebang. The hand holding, sickening pet names, emotional connection, _everything_.' He waited for his words to settle.

'I want that too,' she admitted and Booth was sure she heard his heart quicken. 'Except if you start referring to me as Sugarpuss, Ziva has showed me eighteen different ways to mortally wound someone with a paperclip.'

'So no to Sugarpuss,' was all he could managed. They stood like that for what felt like an eternity.

'There are going to have to be some rules.' Her words made him groan.

'Of course we are,' he bit out, releasing his hold on her. Only Brennan could ruin the genuine Hallmark moment they had had to relate their minute old relationship to a manual.

'Number one,' she continued as if she hadn't heard him. 'We keep this between ourselves.'

'Why? Afraid people will find out you're dating below your status?' He couldn't help the anger that made its way out.

'No. We're in the middle of a murder investigation. Any possible suggestion that we are involved intimately could jeopardize the legality of the evidence we present.' Her tone was hard. Booth felt censured.

'Also I want us…me to have some time to figure this out without Angela breathing down my throat demanding to know whether we enjoyed using the chocolate Karma Sutra I have in my fridge.'

Booth choked and stared at Brennan, who continued on unabashed.

'And I know how you feel about introducing the women you date to Parker.'

'Parker already knows you,' Booth assured her, smiling when he recalled the times his son would ask about Daddy's Bone Lady.

'He knows me as your _partner_,' Brennan stressed the last word. 'Not as your…'

A full-fledged grin break out across his face. 'My _girlfriend_?'

'Shut up Booth.' He held his hands up in surrender. 'It's just…I want him to like me.'

'I know,' Booth said, rubbing her shoulder. 'Can I add to this list? Can you please not try to deal with Miguel, Charlie and whatever else by yourself? Part of being in a relationship means trusting that the other person will be there for you when you need them to be.'

'You can't order me to talk to you.'

'I'm not _ordering _you. I'm using my perfectly symmetrical features to convince you that I'm _here_.'

Brennan reached over and squeezed the hand that was on her.

'I hope you know that it goes both ways.'

Booth entwined his fingers with hers and brushed his lips across her knuckles. Brennan blushed while he watched in amusement as the pink danced across her cheeks.

'Abby has something!' Tony's voice called from outside their door. 'And remember, locked door equals suspicious minds!'

Booth gritted his teeth.

'I guess we better go before someone starts breaking down the door,' Booth grumbled. Brennan's laugh was airy as she made her way towards the door.

Unlocking it, she turned to look at him before stepping outside.

'Oh and Booth? We all know I only like you for your body.'


	29. Chapter 29

Booth _loved _her. This incredible man she had known for years had just confessed his undying devotion to her plain as day and here she was trying to put as much distance as she could between the both of them on the forensic platform.

Beside her, Angela continued to observe Brennan and her partner with the intense concentration the forensic anthropologist reserved for her bones.

'Now that Joy and Man Candy are back, can I interest anyone in some knives?' Abby stated, sweeping her hand across a table full of said implements. 'I've got kitchen knives, pen knives, pocket knives, Swiss Army knives. Razor blades, Exacto blades, scissors, saws, scalpels, hedge clippers, an adze, an awl, a fish scaler, and even a golf-hole cutter.'

Booth let out a low whistle and brushed a hand surreptiously down her spine. Brennan stiffened and resisted the urge to send him a look.

'All recovered from Grady's pig sty?' Booth asked.

'Reflected in the care he used to maintain his cutlery. There's dings and nicks and dull edges. None of these correspond to any of the precise incisions used to dismember the corpses. For such a slob, he certainly is careful when it counts,' Abby told them, holding up a butter knife.

'I noticed quite a lot of blood on his plates,' Brennan offered.

Abby shook her head. 'While our boy Grady was something of a carnivore, no trace of human blood. But this leads us to our kinder surprise.' She hefted up the wrapped pork chop they had found in Grady's freezer.

'When we blow it up, things get real interesting,' Hodgins said, tapping at his keyboard to bring up a picture on the screen. Brennan narrowed her eyes.

'Those incisions match the ones we found on the bodies,' she told them, stepping closer to get a better look.

'Tool mark analysis isn't as precise as say fingerprints or ballistics, but I can conclusively tell you that none of the blades in Grady's possession carved that pig,' Abby finished.

'Isn't Grady's partner a butcher?' Tony asked.

'McGee.' Gibbs worded it as a command.

'Supermarkets, slaughterhouses, any place with a butcher on site within a twenty block radius of Grady's residence.'

'Narrow it down to boutiques. They'd need their privacy,' Booth said as McGee's fingers flew over his laptop.

'There's just one,' McGee said with surprise.

'Boutique or gourmet butchers are a dying industry,' Brennan started but then bit her tongue when Gibbs flashed his eyes at her.

'Le Cochon, Mass Avenue. The owner's name is listed as Dalton,' McGee noted significantly.

'List of employees, past and present,' Gibbs said.

'Bones and I will be right behind you,' Booth shouted after Gibbs. Brennan saw Ziva flash him a sympathetic look while Tony hurried past them, grabbing his coat from a chair. Booth sighed before speaking, slapping his hands together. 'Let's hustle Bones, before Gibbs leaves us behind in the dust again.'

'I just need to borrow her for a sec handsome,' Angela said, latching onto Brennan's arm tightly.

'Angela, we need to interview-'

'We'll meet you at the front. Just pull up and you can have her,' Angela steamrolled over Brennan smoothly. Booth gave them an uneasy look before walking away.

_Traitor._

'What is it Angela?' Brennan tried to keep herself from sounding weary.

'This is the entrée. I'm getting the main course later,' Angela started, pulling her along gently towards the entrance of the Jeffersonian. 'Judging from that silly grin Booth can't wipe off his face, you both _finally _decided to power that Midwestern state. Now I don't know exactly what you said.'

When her best friend didn't continue, Brennan thought this was where she was supposed to inform her of the pertinent details. 'I told him he loved me. He acknowledged that I was right. Booth informs me I am now his girlfriend.'

Angela halted their progress and almost seemed to vibrate on the spot. 'Oh I'm imagining everything in soft focus and watercolour hues right now.' Brennan really shouldn't have expected anything less from the artist.

'We are also trying to keep this _private_,' Brennan told her meaningfully. Angela snorted.

'Please. There is no way that man does not want to let every breathing male know that you're taken.'

'I am not his property Ange,' Brennan gritted out. If there was one thing that irked her, it was men viewing her as some kind of prized possession that needed to be guarded over. Even if Booth did love her, she would not hesitate to make her displeasure tangible if he treated her as chattel.

'Did you tell him?' The question was serious and all the girlish adoration that had been on Angela's face was gone. Brennan swallowed nervously.

'I explained to him how I felt, yes,' Brennan answered. It was true she hadn't exactly said she loved him. How could she when she herself didn't know what that meant? 'And seeing as how the situation has developed positively, he must have interpreted my words in a good way.'

'Sweetie, only you could call having the man that you love declare his love for you a situation,' Angela sighed, shaking her head.

'I don't love him,' Brennan denied weakly.

'Of course you don't Bren.' This time she was sure Angela was being patronizing. A horn blared impatiently. Brennan looked over her shoulder to see Booth leaning out the window expectantly.

'Ange I have to go.'

'Look I know you say you've accepted the fact that he loves you and that you want him. You have him now,' Angela said, looking her in the eye. 'Booth isn't some guy you can just push away. _You _made the first step. _You wanted him_. I don't think you realize how much of him you hold now.'

Brennan could only stare as the horn beeped insistently again.

'Sweetie, you're still scared and that's okay.' Angela grasped her hands. 'But whatever you do now is going to affect him too. So don't screw this up, okay?' A final squeeze before her hands hung limply by her side.

'I'm here if you need me,' Angela promised her.

Brennan turned and walked away.


	30. Chapter 30

Booth noticed that every time he left Brennan with Angela, his partner – no wait, his _girlfriend_ – always withdrew into herself. He knew how insightful the forensic artist could be. Hell, Booth had been on the receiving end more than once himself to attest to this. Oh he was grateful whenever Angela countered Brennan's blunt honesty with her dose of reality. At times, he had marveled how Angela managed to get away with saying things to Brennan that he himself sometimes hesitated to tread.

The friendship between the two women had always fascinated him. They were such diametrical opposites that everything should have worked _against _them. Instead, the first time Booth had entered Brennan's apartment he had noticed that the sole personal indulgence Brennan had allowed herself was a prominent black and white of Angela and a wide-smiled anthropologist. It had been during the Kenton case, Booth remembered, when he had discovered Brennan's Foreigner CD and been treated to a glimpse of his usually uptight girlfriend letting loose. It had taken all he had to not gape as she kicked her legs, strummed an imaginary guitar and sang along with him.

His _girlfriend_. Booth couldn't believe it. This incredible woman, who he thought would run to the high hills if he ever so much as breathed a whisper of what he felt for her, was _his_. He wanted to scream it from the rooftops, hang his head out of the SUV and holler it to the middle-aged couple that had idled beside them at the traffic light.

'Ms Dalton,' Gibbs said. Booth shook his head, hearing the wet sound of a cleaver slicing through flesh and bone.

_He heard Sam scream, heard the sickening sound of metal tearing through skin. He imagined if he blocked out everything else, he could smell the metallic tang in the air…_

Booth clenched his fist, straining the skin across his knuckles. Beside him, he thought he saw Brennan regard him with concern.

Dalton looked up, her red hair pulled back. Red ringlets fell across her shoulders while rusty spots decorated the front of her apron. Booth tried to ignore the smears along the butcher's knife.

'Agent Booth,' Dalton answered, recognizing him. 'Agent Gibbs. I thought you said you didn't need me.'

'Do you know someone called Len Grady?' Tony asked.

'Lenny's my boyfriend.' Dalton's reply was slow. 'What's that got to do with anything?'

'Did you mention to him that you had spoken to us?' Ziva's turn now.

'Well yeah I mentioned that I spoke to you guys.' A short laugh punctuated the end before dying down. 'What has Lenny got to do with your investigation?' Was that a thready beat of panic in Dalton's voice Booth heard?

'He's in custody,' Booth finally spoke, studying Dalton. 'We suspect he's committed at least five murders.'

'That's ridiculous! Len wouldn't hurt a fly let alone…five?' Dalton's query was small.

'Where's your freezer?' Brennan's question was abrupt and Booth almost rolled his eyes.

'Out the back…Hey! There's nothing in there but-' Dalton called, putting down her knife and chasing after Gibbs, Tony and Brennan as they pushed open the door beside the counter. Booth shoved his hands in his pockets, trying to ignore the smell of raw meat.

'Pork, lamb, beef,' Tony sounded out, peering inside a large rectangular freezer covering the better part of the back wall.

'What else would there be?' Dalton sounded exasperated, though Booth noted how she absently twisted the hem of her apron.

'Human blood,' Brennan told her matter-of-factly. Dalton paled. 'What's in that freezer?' Brennan gestured to another unit parallel to the one they were standing by.

'I…I use it for overflow for geese and turkeys during the holidays.'

'Got a key?' Dalton handed over the key to Booth wordlessly.

'What kind of evidence did you say you found in my grandfather's crypt?' Dalton queried as Booth pulled open the top.

'We didn't,' Booth replied.

'Does Grady have access to your store?' Gibbs asked.

'He's here all the time. Look, this can't be happening alright? There must be some kind of…'

Dalton rushed out of the room, hands over her mouth, gagging.

Booth stared at the sight before him. Human limbs, severed and neatly arranged, stared back at him. He saw the toned calf of a woman and the muscled thigh of what he guessed was a man, judging by the matting of coarse dark hair sprinkled liberally over it.

He heard Brennan gasp, saw the blood drain from her face. Her eyes rose to meet his.

'DiNozzo, David. Get Dalton and meet me at the car,' Gibbs said softly, his eyes transfixed by the contents of the freezer. The shuffling of feet was his reply.

Booth swallowed. 'I'll get CSU down here to bag and tag. Get these to the Jeffersonian,' he heard himself say, hand already reaching for his cell.

'The social stigma against cannibalism has been used as an aspect of propaganda against an enemy. By accusing them of such acts, you separate them from the rest of humanity. The Carib tribe in the Lesser Antilles, for instance.' Brennan sounded detached, her gaze focused on a hand cut from the wrist.

Booth promptly slammed the freezer lid shut.

'See you back at Hoover,' Gibbs addressed Booth. The older man seemed to hesitate before reaching over to squeeze Brennan's shoulder. The forensic anthropologist broke out of her stupor to flash the NCIS agent a small smile.

'We'll see you there,' Booth said abruptly and was glad to see Gibbs break contact.

'You okay Bones?' He asked softly, subtly inching closer towards Brennan.

'No.' Her answer stunned him briefly. 'Human beings are capable of such degeneracy. What could possibly possess another to mutilate someone and store them as _produce_? It's debasing.'

Booth didn't know how to reply to that. It was true. Working homicide meant seeing the darkness in life. It meant confronting people who had deemed it necessary to end the life of another.

It meant dealing with himself.

Looking in Brennan's azure irises, he could see that he wasn't alone in doing that.

'I've worked in so many places, places where mass killings and torture were commonplace. Hundreds of bodies buried together without a care. This shouldn't shock me but it does,' Brennan's words were little louder than a whisper.

Booth knew they were supposed to be private. It was one of her rules. They were alone.

_The metal pipes whistled against his feet. He refused to cry out. They wanted to hear him scream. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction. The pipe landed on his right foot. Something cracked. He didn't even whimper._

Without hesitation, he reached over and threaded his fingers through hers. His heart soared when she gripped his hand. She needed him as much as he needed her right now.


	31. Chapter 31

Brennan and Ziva stood next Natalie Dalton in the observation room, who remained immobile, face and mind focused on the shaking form of Len Grady. The geometrical shaped black edges of the interrogation room appeared sharp and unforgiving, the same way the metal table did as Grady's fingers grasped the edge convulsively. Booth paced deliberately, Tony leaning against a wall and eyes fixed intently on the young man.

'Is she the monster you were talking about?' Booth's question broke through the thick air.

'No!' Grady shouted and then tried to regain some of his composure. 'She loves me.'

Dalton didn't react. Brennan met Ziva's eyes.

'How?' Tony asked.

'We're in…we're in love.'

'If she loved you, she must know the real you. She had to have known about it. You carved those people up like a prize Thanksgiving turkey, Lenny, and then kept them in _her _store,' Booth said quietly. Gone was the man who had held her hand at Dalton's butcher shop. Brennan had seen the tumult behind Booth's usually smiling eyes. She had told him about those digs, the ones that still haunted her to this day, but he hadn't told her his story.

No matter, she would be patient. He had been for her.

'She didn't do anything,' Grady answered.

'You're right,' Tony replied, grazing his chin. 'She could have stopped you.'

Dalton remained impassive. Ziva was studying Natalie out of the corner of her eye.

'She _should _have stopped you,' Tony continued.

'Well, if it was real,' Booth joked, though his tone left no room for levity.

'She didn't know! I did it! _I did it_! I hid everything! Just leave her out of it!' Grady broke into a frenzy, voice rising and leaping to his feet. His head turned towards the one-way mirror. 'I'm sorry Natalie! I'm so sorry! _I love you_!' Grady was sobbing now.

Brennan thought that Dalton should have been showing some sign of sadness, anger, anything. She knew that when her father had all but confessed that he had burned Kirby and then removed his organs, a cocktail of hurt, betrayal, anger and confusion had swelled inside her. Instead, Natalie looked as if she had been carved from stone.

'Ms Dalton?' Ziva ventured. Brennan could see that Ziva was thinking the same thing.

'Could I sit down?' Dalton's voiced cracked. Ziva led her to a chair just as Gibbs entered the interrogation room.

'Let's try this again,' Gibbs said, slamming down a picture of a bloated Marilyn Torrance.

'She was swimming in the pool. I drowned her.' All emotion had leaked out of Grady's voice. It was now dull, flat.

'Wade Carlin,' Booth said as Gibbs put down more pictures in front of Grady.

'Natalie was at the wholesale market. He came in for a sandwich. I stabbed him.' Grady turned slightly to peer down at another picture, face expressionless. 'Natalie was out of town. I was lonely and she was a hooker.' Face turned to the next in line. 'This guy was nobody. The kid was a nobody. I just shot him!'

'And you kept him in a freezer for over a year, you sick bastard?' Booth growled, leaning so close to Grady Brennan was sure his breath was washing warmly over the man's nose. 'Why'd you move the bodies huh? Why'd you move 'em?'

'He needed more space,' Gibbs was calm as he replied.

'No one could have stopped me,' Grady told them, looking unflinchingly back at Booth.

'You were going to kill again,' Tony said.

Brennan watched Booth's jaw clench. 'He already did, didn't you Lenny? What'd you do with the body?' No answer. Booth pounded his fist into the table. '_What did you do with the body dammit!_'

Booth normally kept a tight rein on his anger. Oh he thought he projected the air of an affable and charming man easily, but while Brennan normally found herself at a loss when it came to reading others, throughout the years she had kept a close mental watch on Booth's mannerisms. She could tell when he was happy, when he was sad, when he was at his wit's end, when he wanted to drive his fist into a wall in frustration or rage.

What she knew of Booth's past, what little she knew it had to be said, was gleaned from nuggets of information her partner – _boyfriend_, she heard Angela whisper in her mind with glee – had shared with her or what she had read from his personal file. Brennan could see the guilt that hung over him from his past as a sniper and the sorrow that clung to him whenever he had to shoot someone, even if they were guilty. She mused that it was his Catholic sensibilities that fueled the remorse ever present in his being.

_Thou Shalt Not Kill Bones. Already broke one of the Commandents more times than I like to think, gotta spend the rest of my life trying to make sure I get past St. Peter and those pearly gates._

He had imbibed more than one glass of scotch at the time, and while she wondered what Angela's middle name had to do with heaven, Brennan had also found herself unable to offer any words of comfort. He had smiled thinly back at her when she had placed a hand over his, but she often speculated whether her touch had lent him anything, had done anything to ease the pain he felt.

'It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter.' Grady was muttering the words like a mantra as Tony twisted his hands behind his back. 'No, no, no, no! Natalie!' Grady's sobs were muffled as Tony led him out the door, the NCIS agent's expression grim.

Gibbs looked towards them and Brennan noticed Ziva nod imperceptibly.

'Ms Dalton?' Ziva asked the quiet woman. Brennan saw something flash past Natalie's face as she slowly climbed to her feet, something she couldn't identify. It made her uneasy.

_This woman just found out the man she love's kept body parts in her freezer._

'Am I free to go?'

'I will escort you to your car,' Ziva offered.

'I'm sorry,' Brennan fumbled, failing to think of anything else to say.

'So am I.' Disquiet again crawled through her at Dalton's words. Brennan couldn't find anything reflected in Ziva's face, so quickly tried to suppress it as she opened the door to the interrogation room.

'So we find the car, we find the body.' Booth's words were hard.

'I'll get McGee to see if we got any more hits on that BOLO,' Gibbs acknowledged, briefly nodding towards Brennan as he flipped open his cell on the way out.

In front of her, Booth wiped at his face, motions jerky. The muscles in his jaw bunched together, his adam's apple bobbing every few seconds.

_Sometimes all you need is just a touch Sweetie. Words are all well and good, but when you touch someone, they know you're _there.

Booth's eyes were still clenched shut as she reached out to trace a hand softly from his forehead to his chin. Chocolate brown now met blue and time stilled as she felt his day old stubble gently prick her fingers.

'Thanks Bones.'

Maybe her touch did do something after all.


	32. Chapter 32

Booth pinched the bridge of his nose, trying in vain to alleviate the pressure building between his eyes. Most of the time he could appreciate Brennan's stubborn nature. In fact, he could respect it. But there were moments when he wished she would just _let it go_.

'The guy pretty much handed us his confession on a silver platter Bones!' He finally ground out.

'I'm telling you that there was something _wrong _with Natalie Dalton Booth! You were in the room with Grady so therefore you do not have the firsthand observation that I possess.'

'I can't just arrest her based on your gut feeling.'

'Why not?' Brennan asked, placing her hands on her hips. Booth was grateful that the door to her office was closed and that the NCIS major case team had decided to travel back to the Navy Yard to process Grady's arrest. While Booth had obviously protested at first – after all, this collar belonged as much to his team as it did to NCIS – Gibbs had finally assured him that they would be sharing joint honours in this particular venture.

'Everything we have points back to Grady. The physical evidence, the confession. You present this to a jury and the guy gets put away. Caroline doesn't even have to break a sweat.'

'She didn't react _at all _Booth!' This time, a definite edge of frustration and anger was seeping into his girlfriend's tone. 'She simply stood there! Even I know that when your boyfriend confesses to dismembering people and then stores them in your freezer-'

'Look maybe she was just shocked, okay? Stunned, unable to process, whatever.'

Booth watched as Brennan stood still for a moment, her hands dropping to her sides limply. 'You don't believe me?'

Booth swallowed at the vulnerability in her voice. If there was one thing Booth could say with conviction, it was that Temperance Brennan invested her all in the case. When they had first started working together, he had quickly decided that this aloof scientist wasn't interested in dealing in the more personal aspects of the case. The skeleton before her wasn't somebody's husband, mother or child. They were pieces of a forensic case.

But then the Maggie Schilling case had turned everything he knew about her on its head. Sure, there had been signs before that there was more to this woman then the scientist within. When she had promised that Sean Cook that her FBI partner would do everything he could to keep him together with his brother, and delivered that muted soliloquy about her time spent in the foster system, his perception of her shifted. But her testimony on the stand, when she had waxed poetical about how these bones were more to her, how she could tell how Maggie had suffered and how she had fought, had been his undoing. The bones told a story, she would say, and she fully intended to understand the underlying text. Sure he had felt slightly guilty about telling the DA about Brennan's past, but Booth felt like he had gained a more telling insight into Brennan's sense of justice.

She referred to them as victims because using their names generated too much intimacy. It was a tactic he had used when he was a sniper – that disconnect made it easier to pull the trigger.

'I didn't say that alright,' Booth tried to placate her. 'But until you can give me forensic evidence to back up what you're saying, I can't get a warrant for Dalton.'

'Because you're the heart, is that it? Simply because I'm a scientist doesn't mean that I do not follow the same digestive hunches that you do. And I am telling you that Natalie Dalton should be placed under suspicion. According to the evidence –' Booth didn't miss how Brennan emphasized that word, '- Grady has been doing this for a substantial period of time. It seems highly improbable that Natalie did not notice that something was amiss in her own store. These bodies have been preserved for more than a _year_, during which time Thanksgiving and Christmas have passed. She keeps _geese _and _turkey _in there for seasonal overflows. Which means logically that she must have had to open that freezer at some point in time for sale, or even to do an inventory.'

'You know what the judge is going to say Bones? You know what Caroline is going to say?'

'I wouldn't because I have not spoken to them.'

Where was the woman who had held his hand not an hour ago? His head wasn't the greatest place to be in during the best of times. In fact, he avoided delving too deep for fear of what he would find. When he had discharged his weapon at that damned ice-cream truck and been submitted to Gordon Gordon for an "evaluation", the good doctor had forced him to dredge up things best forgotten.

But when Brennan had threaded her fingers through his and not let go, everything had just seemed to settle. It had allowed him a chance to refocus on what was happening _now_, not what had happened in the past. Now he had a beautiful girlfriend, a wonderful son and a job he enjoyed. Not watching someone's head explode from over a hundred feet away so that he could report back for certain that he had found the solution.

'There's just no DNA, no pieces of clothing, no fingerprints, no _nothing _that tie Dalton back to this. We put her on the stand and she's going to get portrayed as the innocent that got duped by this sick monster who got his rocks off keeping a middle-aged woman's foot in her meat freezer.'

'If we went over the evidence again, kept looking-'

'Then go do that Bones, okay? Go find something you can bring to me to get that warrant instead of standing here and arguing with me about it.'

'You're upset. With me.'

Booth expelled a long, slow sigh. God, he was just so _tired_. The flashbacks, seeing those limbs stacked up like a deranged Ponzi scheme pyramid – all he wanted to do was crash in front of the TV with Brennan curled up at his side and pretend that today had never happened.

'Bones, if you think Dalton's someone we should look into, we'll do that. I'll just get back to Hoover and go through her records while you stay here and see if you can work your mutant powers for good.' Even to his ears, he sounded strained.

'Okay.' Booth saw Brennan nod her head sharply. 'I'll contact you if we find anything.'

Great, she was retreating behind those walls again.

_Did you really think this was going to be easy Seeley my boy?_

'I'll come get you for dinner then?' Booth asked, trying to appear unaffected. 'We'll order some Thai and then swing by my place?'

_Maybe fall asleep together. In my bed._

'That sounds acceptable.'

Booth walked closer towards her, watched as she studied him with equal parts wariness and uncertainty. As he moved to brush his lips across hers – briefly glancing up to make sure no one was watching – he felt her stiffen and then relax fractionally.

'I'll see you later,' he said softly, tracing a finger down the worry lines creasing her forehead.

'Booth,' Brennan called out to him just as he was at the door. He turned.

He saw her open her mouth then close it, her eyes narrowed. 'It's nothing-'

'You sure Bones?'

'Yes. I will see you for dinner.' The end of her sentence lilted, as if she was unsure whether he meant what he had said.

_It's not easy but damn if she ain't worth it._

'There's nowhere else I'd rather be.'

Giving her a smile, Booth stuffed his hands into the pockets of his coat. Right now, he needed to pay a visit to an old friend down at Arlington.


	33. Chapter 33

Brennan made her way around the forensic platform, mind whirling as Booth walked towards the exit.

_I'll give him evidence._

The man was unbelievable! She had presented a logical summary of the evidence to back up her hypothesis and he had just _dismissed _it, as if it were an insect buzzing around his ear. Like she was _bothering _him with her insight into what she deemed a glaring oversight in the interpretation of the facts.

Squeezing her eyes shut and inhaling in deeply, Brennan tried to focus on anything but how that had made her feel.

_Psychology is a soft science. A highly imprecise study of the human mind that contains too many variables to offer a certain explanantion._

'**Temperance, honey, could you come down to the kitchen please?'**

**Temperance looked down unseeingly at her biology textbook, the pages yellowed and worn. Chapter six had a large section missing three pages in. **

'**I'm coming,' she hollered back, trying to sound cheerful. Trying to sound oblivious. It wasn't their fault, she reasoned in her head. Sometimes life just seemed to go a certain way for someone. But she was trying, couldn't they see? Her hair wasn't blue anymore, she had stayed away from black and hanging metal chains. Her grades were good and her teachers didn't hate her as much down here. They only disliked her because she didn't see the harm in correcting them.**

**Her bare feet padded against the carpet as she made her way towards the kitchen. Jackly and Bob sat together, their hands intertwined. Temperance noticed that Jackly's eyes were slightly red-rimmed, as if she had been crying. Good.**

'**Hey,' Temperance started sedately, unsure whether showing any kind of reaction would help. Probably not, something inside her echoed back.**

'**Honey,' Bob began, clearing his throat. 'Jack and I, we've been talking and-'**

'**Are you thinking of having a child? A biological one,' Temperance enquired politely, though some bitterness did manage to make itself known. Both looked shocked for a minute before Jackly bit her lip. Temperance noticed she did this whenever she was nervous or upset.**

'**It's not that we don't want you honey,' Bob tried to make amends.**

'**It's fine,' Temperance tried to reassure them. Thomas would be proud. She had lasted six months here and they didn't want her not because she had made it a point for them to hate her.**

'**Thank you honey. For understanding.'**

**She didn't, not really. How could you say you wanted to foster someone, plant hope that you actually wanted this person, and then discard them the moment the thought of something of your own came into the picture? Wasn't a foster child equally as important? **

**They were somebody's child too.**

**That night, as she stuffed her biology textbook into her garbage bag, she hated Jackly and Bob for making her feel so small.**

'Something I can help you with Dr. B?'

Shaking her head, Brennan noticed that she was standing outside Hodgins' cubicle. She also wondered how she had failed to miss the heavy, pounding drums and guitar filling the room.

'Abby?' Brennan asked, curious. She had thought the forensic scientist would have left with the rest of the NCIS team. Striding towards the stereo system that had been set up in the far end of the space, Brennan quickly reached for the volume button.

'You know, sometimes you suck all the fun out of your name Joy,' Abby told her, pouting as she twirled around in her platforms.

'Where is Dr. Hodgins?'

'He left a while ago. Something about candles and a brain aneurysm. I wasn't really paying attention. Some things are just too weird, you know?'

Resisting to flash the goth who bowled with a set of nuns an incredulous look, Brennan noticed the hum of activity coming from the computer screens.

'What are you doing?' Brennan could hear Booth chiding her for being abrupt, but she forced herself to ignore it. The man was infuriating.

'Just running some cheek swabs we got from everyone through the databases. Nothing major. Now are you going to tell me what's got you like McGee after a Gibbs smackdown?'

'I don't know what that means.'

'It's obviously a man,' Abby continued, undeterred, circling around her slowly. Her dark eyes travelled up and down Brennan, finger grazing her chin. 'And only one person has the ability to totally work you into this self-induced angst fest. Wait!' Abby exclaimed, closing her eyes and holding up her hands. 'What's the G-Man done now?'

'Why does everyone always assume that Booth is the one that upsets me whenever I am…upset?'

'Woah,' Abby said, mouth slightly gaping. 'Must be a doozy if you can't find your synonym voodoo.'

Pursing her lips, Brennan tried to fix her eyes on one of the computer screens. DNA patterns blinked past at alarming speeds, making her head hurt.

'It's nothing.'

Abby scoffed at her response.

'I may have suggested that it would be prudent to check into Ms Dalton as a possible suspect. Booth may have proposed that I look over the evidence before bringing up such a preposterous idea in the first place.' The words spilled out before she could stop them.

Abby whistled. 'So you're upset because he-'

'He _dismissed _me. Like I was some chil-' Brennan swallowed. 'Simply because I do not put much stock in his gut instincts, he's under the presumption that it is impossible for me to have some of my own.'

Abby was quiet, her heavily mascara-coated eyes gazing at her with such empathy that Brennan wanted to turn on her heel and leave.

'And I know it is childish and irrational and uncouth for me to act like a spoilt adolescent, but-'

'Look, sometimes it sucks when Gibbs and the rest of them don't take the stuff I say about the investigative part seriously. It hurts because, yeah, they respect me for the mad skills I bring to the Labby, but it's nice to know that I can be helpful outside of it,' Abby told her.

'So what do you do?' Brennan asked.

Abby shrugged her shoulders. 'Well, I gave them the cold shoulder first. That really freaked them out. You should have seen Tony and McGee.' Abby let out a laugh that seemed slightly evil. 'Finally, Gibbs sat me and Bert down and said-' Clearing her throat, Abby spoke in a gruffer voice.

'Abs, just because we don't look like we listen, doesn't mean we don't.'

When Abby paused, Brennan realized she had been told something significant with a rather poor imitation of Jethro's voice. Finally, when she couldn't evaluate the underlying importance of Abby's proverb, the NCIS scientist heaved a large sigh before placing a hand on both her shoulders.

'Sometimes Joy, they get so caught up in the blood and guts, it reminds them of things they want to forget. They try and make it seem like it doesn't affect them, but it does. And then they get all pre-menstrual on us because every now and then, for that one second, they just want the day to end.'

'So hormones are making Booth act this way?' Brennan asked, brow wrinkling.

Abby laughed, leaning her body to the side and pushing some of her weight onto Brennan.

'What is that sound?' Brennan questioned, as the incessant beeping reached a crescendo. Abby jolted, running towards the screen closest to the door and tapping at the keyboard.

'Abby,' Brennan asked again, insistent.

'Better round up the rest of the Scoobies and start the Mystery Machine Velma, because this impossible mystery just took an unexpected turn.'

'I have no idea what that means.'

Abby turned to look at her. 'It means this time instinct made science her bitch.'


	34. Chapter 34

**a/n: this story, everything I write, is dedicated to the person I love who passed away yesterday. I'll never forget you.**

'So what exactly did you do?' Tony's question was warranted, Booth supposed. That didn't mean he had to like it.

Brennan had called him a half hour ago, telling him that Natalie Dalton's DNA had been found on some of the severed limbs. Something about skin cells Booth had caught before she had dissolved into a blur of scientific jargon and complicated chemical names that he couldn't for the life of him pronounce. She had also politely informed him that she was on the way to Norfolk with Abby. Knowing that arguing with Brennan in her current state of mind was futile at best, Booth had gritted his teeth and said he would meet her there.

The NCIS visitor's badge pinned to his chest seemed heavy as he looked at the Italian located behind his desk. Tony had his hands interlocked, head resting against them as he gazed up at Booth. The three other desks ringed around Tony's were unoccupied Booth noticed.

'They're downstairs at the lab. Tempe told me to meet you up here and escort you down,' Tony offered, following Booth's gaze. 'So?'

'Look DiNozzo,' Booth started, trying to keep his temper in check. 'Let's just get down there so Bones can rub whatever she found in my face, alright?'

The tall agent unfolded himself from his seat, coming to stand a few paces in front of Booth. The NCIS man was a few inches taller, but Booth was satisfied to note that his shoulders were broader.

'Look Agent Booth,' Tony said, the usual sparkle in his eye dimmed somewhat. 'I get why you've been pissy to me since the day we met. Heck, if I had a partner like Temp I'd probably be worse than you.'

'Can we get down to the lab?' Booth asked, shifting his coat onto his other arm.

'Tempe's an important person to me. So when she comes in here, keeping her chin up like she's daring me to call her on why she's all choked up, I'm going to get suspicious. And from what I've heard and seen, you're the only guy who can push her that way.'

'I don't think this is any of your business Agent DiNozzo,' Booth ground out. Sure Brennan had explained why this man was important to her. Apparently, he understood parts of her that she seemed to think Booth could never really get, at least not yet. Booth liked to consider himself somewhat of an expert on all things Temperance Brennan and it irked him to think that there was someone else out there who could read his partner the way he could.

Tony held his hands out in a gesture of surrender. 'I'm not trying to pick a fight. All I'm saying is that Temp's one of the few women I know that completely buck whatever the hell I've managed to learn about the fairer sex over the years. So I'd appreciate it if you could-'

'Look pal,' Booth said, jabbing his finger into Tony's chest. 'Whatever happens between me and Bones is between me and Bones, got it? Don't tell me how the hell I should treat my partner, and how'd you _appreciate _me doing anything that had as if I didn't already have her best interests in mind.'

Tony seemed to study him intently for a minute, nose titled down and eyebrows slightly puckered. Finally, he clapped Booth's arm and nodded for him to follow. Booth stood there, watching Tony as he pressed the button for the elevator.

_For the love of - he wags his damn finger at me for pissing Bones off and then slaps me on the shoulder as if we'd just said something remotely funny. These people are worse than the squints!_

'You coming? Gibbs hates waiting. Especially for the Feds,' Tony remarked, with a little smirk, acting as if what had transpired before had never happened.

Booth stood still for a second, deciding whether to pull out his gun and shoot the man, before finally sucking it up and walking into the elevator as the doors opened. He saw Tony press the button, saw the circle that said basement light up. A level down before Booth finally felt the fraying edge of his temper unravel and flicked the emergency switch.

The elevator ground to a halt, metal screeching against metal. The fluorescent lights dimmed and cast the enclosed space in a blue-grey hue that made Tony's skin swallow and ghostly. The Italian's mouth gaped open, eyes wide, expression caught between curiousity and what Booth thought was horror.

'What?' Booth asked, irritated.

The former Ranger caught the words 'Gibbs' and 'not good' amongst Tony's mutterings. The NCIS agent finally looked up, meeting Booth's eye. After a moment had passed and Booth had yet to say a word, Tony cleared his throat, as if to ask what the hell they were both doing stuck in a stalled metal box.

He had to ask it. It was eating away at him, no matter how he felt about her, despite what Brennan had sketched out about how she felt about him.

'What is Temperance to you?'

The words hung between them, Booth feeling his throat constrict as Tony regarded him warily, as if he had just opened a Pandora's box that he shouldn't have.

Finally, Tony sighed, drawing it out slowly and painfully. Booth saw his fists clench and unclench, his jaw so tight his cheekbones became more pronounced.

'Look Booth, don't get me wrong. When I first met Tempe, I wanted her. That soft skin, nice silky hair, and don't get me started on those eyes.'

Booth resisted the urge to growl softly, though he saw Tony smile knowingly.

'Before Ziva, we had another member on our team. Her name was Caitlin Todd. God, she was a real ball buster. Completely resistant to the DiNozzo charm and didn't take crap from anyone. Kate was damn good at what she did. And you know, everytime I heard she had a date, it'd drive me insane. For a while, I kept telling myself it was what partners did, you know? Make sure she didn't get hurt. Kate hated me for it, but you could see in her eyes she didn't mind it so much.'

Tony paused, exhaled.

'Then one day, we're both lying there, I'm coughing up blood and infected with the plague, and Kate stays with me. And I realize that maybe, somewhere down the line; I could feel more than friendship for this woman. I looked in her eyes and thought maybe she could as well.'

Wishing he had kept his mouth shut, Booth remained solemn, watching the anguish play across the other man's face. Tony shifted his head to the side, looking Booth in the eye.

'One minute she's standing in front of me, with this smile making her whole face light up, the next she's lying in front of me with her brains blown out.'

_Oh God._

'I didn't get my chance Booth,' Tony said, the agony now buried so deep within his tone that if you looked at him, you'd never guess he had just cut a new line into his heart. 'But you can. I'm known for a lot of things, but I'm not _that_ guy. I'm not going to try and lay claim to someone else's woman. Whether she knows it or not, she's handed a part of herself over to you.'

Booth's mouth felt dry and parched, as if he had been stuck in the desert without water for days again.

'So look after her. Gibbs may be the Marine, but I didn't spend all those years in Narc twiddling my thumbs and sitting on my ass.' Booth met Tony's answering stare, saw the other man's green eyes harden slightly.

Feeling, _knowing_, that words wouldn't come out even if he wanted them to, Booth managed a curt nod.

'DiNozzo-'

Tony cut him off by reaching over to flick the emergency switch. The harsh lights blinked back on, making Booth's eyes water. Or at least, that's what he wanted to explain the burning sensation forming behind his eyeballs.

'Hell, McGee may look like the Elf Lord, but he'd motherboard your ass in a heartbeat if he needed to.'

Listening to the mechanical whirring sounds, Booth once again wished he had never asked that question. And realizing that Tony had never actually said he wasn't in love with his girlfriend.


	35. Chapter 35

The moment the two men stepped through the door to Abby's lab, Brennan knew something was wrong. Both Tony and Booth showed the hurt, pain, anger, frustration, or any other negative emotion in different ways.

With Tony, he masked it with a smile. For him, laughing was literally the best medicine. While it didn't diminish anything, the effort it took to project that cheerful demeanor allowed him to focus on something else. Brennan had seen it surface a number of times over the years. The most prominent was after Kate's funeral. Whenever they would meet somewhere to share a meal, the light in his eyes would dim and the corners of his mouth would droop. The instant she asked if he was alright, that smile would make itself known and he would wave away her concern with a flick of his wrist.

Booth, on the other hand, would make his feelings known. She remembered the time during the Ice Pick case when her partner – _boyfriend Temperance_, she thought, cringing internally– had had that infected molar. He had rubbed his jaw, moaned in pain, winced whenever he spoke or ate. When Brennan had asked him to see a dentist, he had stared at her as if she was insane for even suggesting that he find some way to get rid of the pain that was bothering him.

The FBI agent liked to burden himself. Whether it was his or someone else's, it didn't matter. So long as he felt responsible in some way, no matter how ludicrous the reason for being so was, Booth would gladly ask you to hand over whatever you were feeling so the load on your shoulders would be that much lighter.

It was one of the reasons she had come to love – _intensely like, lust, have affection for _– him. No matter how much he tried to downplay it, Booth was one of the most selfless people she knew.

He was also the most obstinate pain in the rear when he chose to be.

'Agent Booth. Glad you could join us.'

Brennan saw Booth's jaw tighten but otherwise he offered no remark to the thinly veiled sarcasm in Gibbs' voice. Instead, he offered a curt nod and came to stand a few inches to her right.

'Next time you feel like taking a road trip Bones, make sure I'm along for the ride huh?' Booth whispered into her ear, his breath fanning across the sensitive spot of her ear lobe and making her shiver discreetly.

'I found the evidence, didn't I? You said to bring you something to get that warrant,' Brennan hissed through her teeth, making sure the scowl she could feel forming on her face didn't show itself.

'Exactly. Bring it to _me_.' The emphasis on his last word did not escape her notice. Seeing that everyone was occupied by something Tony was saying, Brennan raised her chin and glared at Booth.

'You are incorrigible. For lord's sake Booth, _Abby _found the evidence and she needed some of the equipment she had down here to corroborate! If this is about how you're engaged in some kind of smurf war with Jethro over jurisdiction on this case, _do not_,' she said, jabbing a finger at his nicely toned and extremely well-defined chest, 'take out that frustration on _me_. I am simply trying to do my job with a partner who obviously sees little value in my non-scientific observations.'

Brennan spun around, ignoring Booth's narrowed eyes slowly getting bigger as she continued her rant, and tried to concentrate on Tony gazing around the lab in amazement.

'There's music?' Tony mused, choosing to disregard the irritated expression Gibbs was sending his way. 'Abs, you're feeling better!'

'Brain matter always helps the suckage,' Abby conceded.

'So all that drama was…' McGee's voice faded away.

'You done McGee?' Gibbs asked, raising an eyebrow. Brennan saw McGee's muscles tense and the former probationary officer swallowed carefully, probably noticing the look of displeasure Ziva and Abby were sending his way.

'What've you got Abs?' Gibbs questioned after a beat. Booth remained silent beside her, though Brennan could feel the hairs on the back of her neck stand, much like they did whenever she knew Booth was looking at her, noticing her.

'Well I was running through all the swabs McGee got off all those spare parts,' Abby started, tapping away at her keyboard excitedly, bringing up a picture of the severed limbs all arranged neatly on Ducky's autopsy table. Brennan immediately noticed the precision used to detach the limbs.

_Another reason why Dalton is a viable suspect. She's a butcher and obviously has the skill necessary to achieve such results. _Brennan pictured Booth's wide eyes. _Ass._

'And something interesting popped up.' More tapping and a forearm appeared and rotated so that the screen displayed bone ringed with meat and skin. 'One of the samples taken from this part right here didn't come up with Grady's DNA. In fact, none of the parts had Grady's body juice _anywhere_!'

'So then why'd he confess?' Tony enquired, leaning over Ziva's shoulder to get a better look. Brennan saw Ziva stiffen minutely before relaxing, Tony's head brushing against the side of her face for a moment.

'Well he knew something. _His _fingerprints and what not were found all over the outside of the freezer. So denial is a river Grady can't drown in,' Abby told them.

Brennan furrowed her brow. She was pretty sure the Nile was deep enough to induce drowning.

'Metaphor Bones. I'll explain later,' Booth's low baritone almost made her jump out of her skin. Rather than respond, she shifted away, making sure not to look at him.

_Ass._

'We getting somewhere Abs?' Gibbs sounded impatient, but the soft smile spoiled the effect. Brennan smirked, knowing the older man's soft spot for the women on his team. Jethro never saw the fairer sex as inferior when it came to anything – except perhaps trusting them with his heart - but some of that old chivalry ran through his veins. He could deny it till he was blue in the face but Gibbs loved rescuing the damsel from any kind of distress.

Abby pounded her keyboard emphatically. A DNA sequence flashed through before a DMV photo of Natalie Dalton appeared. 'Ms Dalton's epithelials, DNA, fingerprints – all the bells and whistles – were totally found on the _inside _of the freezer. Most of it on the parts where the limbs were chopped off.'

'_She _did it?' Tony asked incredulously, mouth slightly gaping open.

'Do you think women are not capable of such depravity Tony?'

'Well, obviously they are. I mean, you're like Chun Li on steroids with flawless victory thrown in,' Tony answered, scoffing at Ziva. Almost immediately, Ziva's foot came into contact with his shin.

'_Holy mother of-_'

'Be grateful I didn't aim higher,' Ziva bit out, glancing meaningfully at Tony's crotch. Gibbs and McGee shook their heads.

'DiNozzo,' Gibbs sighed. 'We'll be down at the garage waiting for you to pull your head out of your ass.' Shaking his head once again, the older man departed, McGee trailing in his wake after flashing Tony a censorious look.

'_What_?' Tony finally exclaimed.

'You know how sometimes a guy can get you all twisted up inside Joy? Like you can't get the knots out no matter how hard you try?'

'And then they do or say something incredibly stupid and foolhardy to make you wonder why you were so bothered in the first place?' Brennan retorted, sharing a meaningful look with the Goth.

Tony gaped at the both of them, his eyes seeking Booth's for some kind of mutual male support. Brennan felt Booth lift a shoulder, but otherwise remain quiet and motionless.

'Gosh Tony, I love you and all but when are you going to realize that Ziva's a _woman _who has _feelings_?' Abby said.

'I notice that she's a woman,' Tony announced, offended. 'Oh c'mon! She knows when I say stuff like that I'm just kidding around!'

'Even if you don't really mean them, they still hurt Anthony,' Brennan told him calmly.

_Sticks and stones might break your bones, but words will always hurt you._

'I'll see you down at the car,' Brennan told both men somewhat coolly. 'Abby, I shall call you later after I've spoken with Angela and Ziva.'

Then she left.

_Idiots._


	36. Chapter 36

**a/n: In answer to fred, YES this will be completed. I'm already contemplating the sequel, to deal with Miguel and BB's new relationship. Just a quick vote – yay or nay to NCIS being involved again? I really like the dynamic between these teams and I want to put it in again. Your thoughts?**

Booth nervously tapped his finger on the steering wheel, Brennan silent beside him. Resisting the urge to sigh, he contemplated how to start the conversation without sounding as annoyed as he felt. It wasn't like this was the first time he had been subjected to the cold shoulder from his partner. With personalities and belief systems existing on extreme ends of the spectrum, their bickering often escalated to something closely resembling an argument.

It didn't help that her flashing blue eyes and flushed cheeks often turned him on.

_Focus Ranger. Remember, patience always gets you what you want in the end._

'So is this how it's going to be?' Okay, so maybe he didn't possess the patience of a saint. But the woman beside him could try the last nerve of Jesus himself and lead to thoughts of some good old fashioned Old Testament punishment.

Brennan didn't answer. He imagined DiNozzo was being subjected to the same treatment as him, though the Italian deserved it. Before they had driven off, Gibbs had gotten a call about a possible hit on the BOLO they had put out on Grady's van. The streetlights cast muted yellow light on the street as they drove by, the lights from the buildings illuminating the sidewalks and couples walking past hand in hand.

'Bones, the silent treatment isn't going to last and you know it. Sooner or later, you're gonna want to make your opinion known about something, and I'm guessing that it won't translate well when done in sign language.' Booth was goading her, injecting just enough condescension to rile Brennan. Watching her head snap around to face him, he restrained the urge to gloat.

_All you gotta do is push the right buttons…_

'Shut up Booth.'

'Look, I get you're upset because I gave you a hard time about Dalton. But we both know Caroline would have given me that _look _where she pinches her mouth and raises her eyebrow,' Booth said, mimicking the expression comically. '_And_ she probably would have hit me too.' Booth tore his eyes away from the road to give Brennan a passing glance.

'So I'm supposed to stand there and let you dismiss any suggestion I make about something not relating to bones?' Booth could hear the anger and hurt in her voice.

'You know I didn't mean it like that. It was a long day alright Bones, and the last thing I needed was you getting up in my face and going all Super Scientist on my ass.' Booth paused, breathing in deep and exhaling slowly.

'And besides, _you_ do it to me all the time. Just last week when I told you my gut was telling me it was the husband, _which it was_,' Booth told her meaningfully. 'You started going on and on about how my digestive tract was no match for science.'

'That's different.'

'Let's also not forget how whenever you're examining the skeleton and I offer a suggestion, you give me this highly incredulous look, like me saying blunt force trauma insults this perception you have of me as just another dumb cop with all brawn and no brain.' This time Booth didn't bother to mask the slight twinge of hurt that coated his words.

His knuckles tightened on the steering wheel, the leather squeaking slightly as he rubbed his clenched fingers against the synthetic material. The low purr of the air conditioning permeated the air, the radio turned down so low all he could hear was the thrumming bass and occasional word.

'I'm…I'm sorry.' When she spoke, Brennan's voice seemed to quiver. Peering out of the corner of his eye, Booth thought he saw her eyes glimmer and her body deflate.

'Listen Bones, this isn't a guilt trip okay? We're just good at different things and we get a bit territorial when the other person tries to muscle in. You know I listen to what you say, even if it doesn't look I do. We're a team alright?' Booth said, reaching over to rest his hand on her knee.

Her touch was delicate, ghosting over his hand like a fine mist. Where the pads of her fingers touched his skin, it felt like it was being saturated with that warm, comforting feeling that made his heart thump and his lower half twitch.

_Down boy. Now isn't the time to show what you're packing._

'I don't think you're stupid Booth,' Brennan told him with conviction. 'The FBI has a rigourous screening process and only accepts the best. They wouldn't have assigned me to work with you if you were simply mediocre. You're a good man Booth, and a good father. I'm sorry that I ever made you doubt that,' she finished softly. Her hand covered his as he absorbed her words.

'And I'm sorry I got all-'

'Snippy,' Brennan told him.

'What? No. Men don't get _snippy_. Old ladies who crochet tea cosies get snippy. Men get _agitated_.'

'You were almost impertinent Booth.'

'So maybe I was a little…' Booth trailed off, waffling.

'If you had spoken that way with Caroline, she definitely would have hit you.'

'Well I'm glad you didn't assault me the way Ziva wanted to with Tony,' Booth told her, wincing when he recalled the Israeli's words.

Brennan merely quirked an eyebrow, as if seriously considering the idea. Booth resisted the urge to cover himself protectively. The one time Booth had volunteered to spar with Brennan, he had scoffed at the notion that someone who weighed considerably less than him could injure him seriously. Angela had been there when he had suggested it, and the forensic artist's eyes had widened considerably. The next day, he had walked into the Jeffersonian trying to mask the various bruises he had seen start to form on his body the previous night. For almost an entire week, Hodgins would snicker whenever he walked by, Zach would give him a look that bordered on pity, while Angela simply smirked.

He had never underestimated Brennan after that. Now, whenever she asked if he was free, he would make up an excuse to avoid it. Especially when he started noticing his newfound appreciation for his partner. All that skintight clothing, grappling, straddling, sweating, heaving – he wasn't a glutton for punishment.

Though now he had a valid excuse to do all that, minus the clothing.

_Slow and steady wins the race._

This new and exciting thing between them, Booth knew, had to be taken carefully. While Brennan had been the one to initiate it, that didn't mean she was fully aware of what she was feeling. She was _pretty _sure about how she felt about him. Booth just needed time to make that supposition concrete.

'Tony just needs to start being more aware of Ziva.' There was something in the way that she said it that piqued his interest. Booth wiggled his eyebrows encouragingly.

Brennan offered him a look of surprise. 'You mean you don't see it?'

'See it?' Booth asked, genuinely confused, recalling all the times he had spent with the NCIS team. Truth be told, he had been more interested in their dynamic with Brennan rather than with each other.

Brennan shook her head in what he could only describe as disappointment before a triumphant grin lit up her face.

'Oh c'mon Bones. Don't leave me hanging here!'

'As far as I can tell you're seated and not _hanging _anywhere.' Her literal reply was expected.

'What I meant was don't keep me in suspense here.'

'_You're _the expert in reading people Booth. I wouldn't want to offend your territorial sensibilities by impinging upon _your _area of expertise.'

'You're a smart ass, you know that?' Booth grumbled, seeing Gibbs screech to a halt a few feet away from a van.

'I am smart,' Brennan agreed. 'Though my ass has nothing to do it.'


	37. Chapter 37

Brennan had all but demanded that she be the one to interrogate her. Gibbs had told her she was too close to the case, that she was letting her objectivity go. Booth had protested as well, but something in her eyes had made them both relent. However, Booth had registered a hurt look when she had asked that Gibbs be the one in there with her. She hadn't explained herself well, she mused, but the fact was that Gibbs and the NCIS team probably knew more about her past than her own team. Why, she didn't know.

Brennan needed someone in there to know when she was crossing the line. Her people skills were rudimentary at best, and already she could feel the anger leeching into her like a poison. But she managed to rein it all in because she knew that Gibbs cared for her, he didn't care for her the same way Booth did. Booth's first instinct would be to protect her, whether intentionally or not. Gibbs would remind her to calm down and channel her aggressive energy in a positive way.

At least, that was the implied message she got off the team leader.

Natalie Dalton returned Brennan's steely stare unflinchingly. The apron and clothes she had been apprehended in were enroute to the Jeffersonian, and yet if you knew what to look for, Brennan imagined she could still see the faded red streaks across the other woman's hands.

_The minute the van doors opened, Brennan could feel the bile almost touch her tongue. _

_That rusty salt and metallic smell, the wooden chopping board with grooves around the edge to collect the blood that leaked out, the discarded restraints on the floor, the torso she had firmly in her grip as her butcher's knife lay buried half an inch inside the stomach…_

_Monster._

'I want you to tell me why.' Brennan's question rang across the interrogation room. Gibbs leaned against the wall behind Natalie, his blue eyes fixed squarely on the back of Dalton's head.

As expected, the woman didn't speak.

'This was about power, wasn't it? From the pattern, I can't discern any sexual fetishistic undertones. In fact, as distasteful as this seems, you're following a norm,' Brennan started, ensuring her voice was low. 'Immobilising your victims wasn't just about making sure they didn't escape, you wanted to make sure you had supreme power over them. I'm assuming that you made sure they weren't able to speak. It made them less human when you couldn't hear them. It's a basic dehumanization tactic I'm well-acquainted with.'

_They stuffed the dirty rag into her mouth, forcing it almost to the back of her esophagus. Her gag reflex kicked it and she could taste the filth as the material edged deeper down her throat. _

'_It's better when they don't scream,' the man hissed to her. She absently noted that his teeth were mostly gone._

'The dismembering, I imagine, evolved out of practicality,' Brennan continued, her voice strung as tightly as a guitar wire. 'They were easier to store that way. But then, you discovered you liked it, didn't you?' The last sentence was spat out with venom. Gibbs shot her a warning glance.

'Taking them apart piece by piece…it was a method to render them as nonhuman. They weren't cognizant, living beings anymore. They were inanimate objects, tools and materials you could work with. I imagine as a butcher you regarded them as just another form of produce.'

Still Natalie remained silent. Brennan leaned forward, invading her personal space.

'Len Grady was the exact opposite of your father, wasn't he? If I had to hazard an estimation based on what I already know, he was lost and jaded after taking care of his mother. You're rather attractive. A woman such as yourself even noticing a man with the build and features of Lenny-'

'Don't call him that.' It was barely a whisper, but Gibbs heard it too since Brennan saw one of his eyebrows kick upwards in response. Stifling the urge to smile in triumph, Brennan pushed on.

'He was pliant, wasn't he? Easy to deceive, gullible. It would have been easy to get him to go along with your plan. You thought you were in love with him-'

'_Don't _tell me what I feel-' Natalie's fingers were nearly scraping the metal table between them.

'Mrs Grady wouldn't have put up much of a fight. She was old, weak and feeble. It was almost too easy. But Lenny was free now and that was enough.'

'Lenny was practically her _slave_. The bitch made him do everything. It was _always_ about her. The only time he could do _anything _was when he came into the store,' Natalie told her, tone flat but her eyes glinting. 'Just like my father. Nothing I ever did was right unless I did what he wanted me to. I wanted to go to law school but old man thought that wasn't a woman's place. No sons, he said, damn well better do something useful with this one.'

Brennan felt her entire body tense, her eyes harden into ice.

'That doesn't justify what you did,' Brennan told her. 'Those people had families, people who loved them. They had lives and futures and dreams!'

Natalie emitted something between a chuckle and a scoff. 'I made sure some whore didn't spread her legs for some sex-starved businessman.'

_She doesn't feel any remorse._

Resisting the urge to shiver after that thought, Brennan schooled her features.

_Head not heart Bones._

'A few years ago, I was requested to identify remains found in mass graves in Rwanda. As a forensic anthropologist, it's a situation where you're both grateful and regretful that your expertise is such a rare commodity.'

_The hot sun beat down on her neck. Brennan wondered why she even bothered with the hat anymore, since she spent most of her time bent over which thus rendered the protective cover offered by the accessory meaningless._

_What she really needed, she decided, as a gas mask. The combination of earth, decomposed flesh, animals, insects, human waste and the bone-melting temperatures wasn't going to make what lay ahead of her easy._

_After all, the piles of bodies watching her wasn't something she was likely to forget._

'Both sides killed each other in cold blood. That was their motivation – dedication to a political ideology that advocated brutal violence indiscriminately.'

'What are you trying to say Dr Brennan?' Natalie asked. It was the first time the other woman had used her name. She had even added the honorific, Brennan noticed.

'Those people butchered because they wanted to. They can claim that they were serving a cause, but that doesn't mean anything to the women, children and men dumped into massive holes as if they were nothing.' Brennan leaned her upper body over the table, making sure her eyes were level with Dalton's.

'That prostitute, those boys, that woman, the girl – they all deserved to live more than you do. All you wanted was power. You didn't see anything wrong with watching those people die in front of you, defiling their bodies in those ways – I've seen evil in every shade Ms Dalton. But none of them sicken me like you.'

'Go to hell,' Natalie spat.

'I'm going to make sure every piece of evidence that shows what you did to those people gets heard by a jury. I want them to see what a monster you are.'

The words hung in the room like a guillotine.

'I'm going to make sure that they put that needle into your arm,' the words hissed between Brennan's clenched teeth.

Gibbs didn't move, though his face jerked discretely towards the door.

'Maybe you should have gone to law school,' Brennan said, practically wrenching the door open. 'Because you're going to need a damn good lawyer.'


	38. Chapter 38

**a/n: One more chapter left after this one! Sad to see this go, but don't fret, the sequel should be up sooner rather than later. Miguel and Charlie will feature, as will Max Keenan. The NCIS team will also be back due to popular demand, and well, me. **

**Thanks to all those who have reviewed and stuck by this baby. I well and truly appreciate it. If you have any ideas about the sequel, feel free to drop me an email or suggest it in a review. I'm all for the power of democracy (in a sense).**

**As a side note, check out my author page for 'All That Lies Between Us', a place for all those Tiva and NCIS-related ficlets that couldn't quite fit into this story.**

Booth tried to look nonchalant as his eyes saw through the throng of people surrounding the bar to where Brennan and Tony had sequestered themselves in a corner. After Brennan's interrogation, Booth had passed off the woman to Charlie for booking, who looked about as sickened as they all felt. Word had drifted down that arraignment was set for sometime next month. Booth hoped the trial wasn't that far behind.

Upon hearing the news, Abby had immediately demanded that they meet at a local watering hole the NCIS team favoured. The Blue Oyster was nondescript, but the smoky, laid back atmosphere and light jazz music had a certain charm.

'Been a hell of a week,' Gibbs commented, swirling the amber liquid around his whiskey glass. Booth wasn't surprised that the older man took his liquor with no frills.

'Yeah,' Booth agreed, grimacing as he felt the vodka burn down his throat. 'Just when you thought you'd seen it all.' Booth shook his head.

'It's the job,' Gibbs told him simply. 'You know, you got nothing to worry about.'

'What?' Booth asked, tearing his eyes away from his girlfriend. He heard Abby laugh at something McGee said, saw Angela, Ziva and Cam bending their heads close together.

'That,' Gibbs replied, motioning towards Tony. 'DiNozzo may be a lotta things, but he isn't what he makes himself out to be.'

'So he told me,' Booth muttered under his breath, recalling the conversation the two had had in the elevator just this afternoon.

'When a woman looks at you the way Temperance does, the only way you can screw that up is by making her toss a nine iron at your head,' Gibbs said, downing his glass and smacking the tumbler back on the bar. Booth raised an eyebrow at Gibbs, who chuckled in response. Pulling out a few notes and tossing it next to his empty drink, the NCIS team leader clapped Booth on the shoulder.

'Never thought I'd say this, but it was nice working with you Master Sergeant.'

'How'd you-'

'Never go into anything unprepared Ranger.'

'You read my file,' Booth retorted. 'How the hell did you get hold of it? It's classified.'

'You work as long as I have, you start knowing a few people,' Gibbs shrugged.

'Usually interagency investigations involve guys who are complete assholes,' Booth smirked. 'You were just a step up from a jackass Gunny, and for that I thank you.'

This elicited a genuine laugh from Jethro, who had since shrugged on his coat. 'Take care of her Booth. Like I said, I know where you live.'

Booth watched absently as Gibbs made his brief goodbyes, wondering whether the NCIS team were going to play a new role in his life now that he knew their connection to Brennan.

'Did Gibbs leave?' Brennan's voice startled him, causing some of his drink to slosh down his shirt.

'Ah jeez,' he mumbled, reaching for a napkin only to discover Brennan patting away fervently at the wet spot just to the right of his heart.

'Sorry,' she told him, though Booth could tell by the expression on her face that she was anything but. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tony attempt to thaw some of the ice that had developed between himself and Ziva. He didn't know what had happened in the car between the Norfolk and apprehending Dalton, but for some reason Booth imagined a distinct shift in Ziva and Tony's behaviour towards each other. Whereas earlier in the investigation he had seen an easy camaraderie similar to what he shared with Brennan, now it appeared that the Israeli was subtly shying away from the Italian.

Booth resisted the urge to ask what Tony and her had been talking about. It always put Brennan on the defensive and he wasn't up for that particular tug-of-war.

'Are you done being jealous?' Brennan enquired innocently, now gently blotting his shirt. Booth glanced to his side, trying to interpret her expression. Deciding it was best not to lie anymore, considering the huge step they had chose to take regarding their relationship, Booth gave her a wry smile.

'I'm an alpha male. It's in my nature,' Booth told her, shrugging carelessly. Brennan stopped what she was doing, giving him a piercing stare.

'When I wanted Gibbs in the interrogation room with me, it wasn't because I didn't want you. Well, I didn't but…' Brennan trailed off, frustrated, obviously noticing the look Booth could feel on his face. 'I'm not very good at explaining things, am I?'

'It's part of your charm Bones,' Booth replied, nudging her shoulder when he saw her face fall slightly. 'And I think I understand why you did what you did. Besides, you kicked ass in there Bones. It was impressive.'

Hearing Brennan speak about the way Dalton had subdued and murdered her victims, clearly elucidating the reasons why she did things the way she did, had chilled him somewhat. Some of Brennan's words still rang loudly through his head as he turned them over and over, attempting to forumulate a reason to the meaning behind them.

_It's a basic de-humanization tactic I'm familiar with_.

This woman, the one with the frown lines etched into her forehead like a permanent fixture, was still a mystery to him. Two years and he had yet to uncover everything about her.

'You would have wanted to protect me,' Brennan said softly, though her voice managed to carry over the group of men yelling at the television mounted at a corner of the room. 'I suppose it is an inevitable byproduct of your alpha male tendencies, but right then, I needed someone cared about me enough to know when I was crossing the line, instead of caring about me _too _much.' Brennan licked her lips, drawing Booth's attention to how full they were. 'Is that logical?'

She was looking at him with those huge eyes, waiting for him to guide her. Registering the press of people, the loud sounds, the sudden need to be alone with her, Booth followed Gibbs and quickly swallowed the last finger of alcohol. Hastily throwing down a few bills on the counter, Booth grabbed Brennan's arm, reveling in the mixture of confusion and exasperation on her face as he called out a loud farewell to their friends and pulled her out of the bar.

'Booth! Booth! _Booth_!'

Smiling at the old couple walking by, Booth quickly pressed Brennan to his side. The feeling of her warm, soft body against his side injected more pace into his steps. The park he had noticed nearby finally made its appearance, and Booth was delighted to see a pale silver of moonlight dappling the sidewalk and trees. Drawing them to a stop, he could almost _feel _the words about to escape Brennan's full, plump lips.

So he did what he had been wanting to do since that day in her office.

He kissed her.

It wasn't the chaste, almost reverent one they had both indulged in after she had told him she was sick of being just his colleague. No, this was all tongue and wet and groans. She responded to him with passion, far surpassing anything he had imagined. Like their relationship, it was a struggle for dominance.

Booth much preferred this fight because really, it didn't matter who came out on top here.

'Booth?' This time when she said his name it was breathless, her cheeks flushed and her breath coming out in short pants.

'I know that saying we have feelings for each other in the middle of a case involving decapitation wasn't exactly what you had in mind-'

'Well, that's not completely true. In all honesty, what I said had nothing to do with the case we were working on-'

'_But_,' Booth interrupted her, enjoying the glare she gave him. He stroked her jaw tenderly, the pad of his thumb smoothing the baby curls near her temple. 'We're in this, right Bones?'

He hated that he sounded so needy, so unsure. Booth prided himself on being in control, but Temperance Brennan had a way of casting her spell over him, leaving him defenseless.

'I meant what I said Booth,' Brennan told him, eyes serious. 'You know I don't say things unless I mean them.'

'So we're actually going to do this? Me and you?' Booth asked her, slightly in awe. Brennan suddenly looked unsure of herself.

'I'm not very good at _this_,' she reminded him, gripping the hem of his shirt. 'But…but I'm willing to try.' For some reason those words rejuvenated her, making Brennan look at him with determination. 'Dr Goodman once told me I have a deceptively high learning curve. I fully intend to live up to his observation.'

It was such a Bones thing to say that he had to laugh quietly. They stood there, facing each other, reveling in the quiet and listening to each other breathe.

'We kind of trenched everyone, didn't we?'

It took a moment for Booth to decipher what she meant. '_Ditched _Bones, and yes. We did.'

'Angela knows, I think. Ziva and Abby too. They kept giving me these…_looks_, like we were about to engage in sexual intercourse in some dark, decrepit alley.' Brennan took a moment to look around. 'I believe this qualifies as one of those.'

Booth wrinkled his nose at the clinical way Brennan described what in his mind was the most sacred and intimate act two people could do.

'It's called making love Bones, making love,' he informed her.

'So are we going to…make love?' Brennan asked, shy. Booth grinned, seeing the effect his words had on her.

'Don't doubt that for a second. But we're going to go slow.'

'What?' Brennan demanded, incredulous. 'But obviously the next logical step would be for us to assess our sexual compatibility-'

'Being with someone isn't just about that,' Booth explained patiently. 'I want us to do this properly. I've spent a lot of time imaging how to woo you, and I fully intend to make those ideas become reality.'

'You make this sound like a courtship,' Brennan mumbled, somewhat petulantly. Booth could tell she was slightly overwhelmed though.

_Tone it down boy. Nice and easy._

'Look Bones, you're special alright? Anyone with half an eye can see that. I just want a chance to show you that I'm in this for the long haul.'

_And for you to show me the same._

Because that's what scared him. Sure she said she had feelings for him now, but Brennan could just as well decide the next day that'd she'd had enough. And while she'd go around the world peering at skeletons, Booth was sure that the minute she left his entire life would unravel. She was the thread that kept everything linked, kept them from spinning out of control.

It scared him how one woman could affect him this much.

'I meant what I said Seeley.' Brennan must have read his thoughts off his face.

'I'm just as scared as you are Temperance. Remember that when…'

The words died as her lips latched onto his again. Everything faded away as he tried to find a way to unbutton her coat one-handed.

Charlie, Miguel, her family, his family, Parker, his cosmic balance sheet, the skeletons they both had securely behind their closed doors – they didn't matter so much right now.

Because in that moment, all that mattered was the two of them. And it was something Booth wouldn't have any other way.


	39. Chapter 39

_To my darling Temperance,_

_Since the day I met you Temperance, I knew you were special. Sure, this can sound patronizing. But after I got you away from Charlie and 'em, you showed me what true strength was. Yes, I can hear you telling me about all those times you lashed out, screamed, shouted. That blue hair you thought was so rebellious and hideous? I thought it was quite fetching._

_But really Temperance. I've known you for almost half your life (yes, I actually sat down and did the math). In all that time, you've shown a potential to be more than what this old man could ever be. You are where you are because you made damn sure you got there. Don't ever forget that. All that hard work paid off in the end, didn't it honey? If I had a daughter, I'd wish she'd be just like you. No matter how many demons you have locked up in that heart of yours (and I'm so sorry that there are so many), just know that I'll always love you no matter what happens in your life._

_Perhaps I'm writing this letter to leave you a final piece of advice. Carl Jung wrote:_

"_There are as many nights as days, and the one is just as long as the other in the year's course. Even a happy life cannot be without a measure of darkness, and the word 'happy' would lose its meaning if it were not balanced by sadness."_

_You've seen the ugly side of people honey, more than I ever wished you would. Every time you come to visit me, it's behind your eyes. You think that you deserve to carry this weight around with you – a kind of penance because you don't think you deserve happiness. Well, honey, you're wrong. It's because of that darkness that you should appreciate the light. Your friends, your family (no matter your feelings about your brother and father, remember that they do love you). These people show you that there is happiness out there waiting for you._

_It's time you let yourself believe that. Life's too short for you to spend it in shadows._

_And you let that Agent Booth take care of you. I've seen the way you talk about him; saw the look on your face when you did. You can deny it all you want Temperance, but you already know how you feel about the man. Don't make it about science. There are some things that the heart just knows._

_Now I don't want you to waste those tears on an old man like me. I'm somewhere better now with my Margaret. I can almost hear you start telling me how misinformed I am about religion. Just this one time Temperance, I want you to believe for me. I've lived long enough honey. It's just time for me to go._

_If you ever need anything, stop by my headstone. _

_I'll always be looking out for you Blue._

_Love,_

_Thomas_

Brennan smoothed the worn edges of the letter on her vanity, trying to stem the flow of tears that always seemed to appear whenever she read his words. Carefully folding the paper, she tucked it squarely into an unmarked envelope.

The red shoes Thomas had kept for her were in front of her now, just as scruffy and worn as the day she had given it to him when she had turned eighteen. Thomas had accepted the box as if it were a treasure, beaming with pride when he had seen her acceptance letter to Northwestern. His green eyes had twinkled and the embrace she had found herself enfolded in had made the years of struggle worth it.

Gently placing the envelope in the shoebox, Brennan reverently carried it across to her closet.

Placing it on the top shelf, Brennan caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. The fifteen year old orphan was now something more than that. She had friends, a family.

She had Booth.

Hearing the knock on her door, Brennan smoothed out her face. Her heart still ached, she decided, grabbing her purse along the way. Thomas had been more of a father than Max ever was. Sometimes, she would pretend he was, when they sat side by side on his porch, watching the sun set against a pink and orange sky. The comfort that he provided, the strength that she drew from Thomas whenever she needed it…

Shaking her head, Brennan pulled open the door quickly.

'You didn't check the peephole, did you?' Booth asked her accusingly. Brennan rolled her eyes as she armed her security alarm.

'You said you were going to be here at seven. Who else could it have been?' She asked, locking her door.

'An axe murderer Bones? What about a deranged serial killer or any one of those wackos we put behind bars?' Booth told her, growing agitated.

'If I promise to check the peephole before I answer the door, will you stop being so belligerent?'

Booth grabbed her shoulder lightly, stopping her.

'I'm sorry. I'm just a little…'

'Nervous?' Brennan guessed, studying him. 'It's just dinner at Ziva's Booth. I invited you because I want…' She paused, trying to find the words. 'I wanted them to see the man that I do, not just Agent Booth.'

Booth seemed to stare at her, as if stunned.

'What?' She snapped.

'You know what Bones?' Booth said, inching closer towards her. 'I think crossing the line was the best idea you've ever had.'

'A line that _you _put there in the first place,' Brennan saw fit to remind him.

'And here I was thinking that us being together would change you.'

'I don't believe in altering myself in any way to suit your needs Booth. I hope you're aware of that.'

Booth didn't reply, simply leaning over to place a soft, chaste kiss on her lips.

'I wouldn't have you any other way,' he murmured, gaze heavy with meaning. Brennan wondered why her knees felt so weak.

'We best leave now. Ziva doesn't appreciate tardiness,' Brennan stammered out, ignoring the somewhat smug grin that had begun working its way across Booth's face.

Feeling Booth take her hand, Brennan considered that maybe Thomas was right.

It was time for her to stop living in shadows.

As the warmth of Booth's skin sent tingles of something up her arm, she thought that the light didn't seem too bad.

**Author's note:**

**It's finally at an end! Thanks to all those who have stuck by this and made it feel loved. I would also like to state that I own neither Bones or NCIS. I wish I did though.**

**The sequel to 'Red Shoes' will be up in a couple of weeks. Before that though, there's going to be a two or more parter that deals with the aftermath of Season 3 (uh oh). The NCIS team will be present in both because, well, you asked for it and I just love writing them. So be on the lookout via an Author Alert!**

**And also, shameless plug for two of my stories:**

**All That Lies Between Us – NCIS inspired ficlets from the 'Red Shoes' universe**

**Of Mouthwash and Men – I've been told it's funny. Plus, Booth going undercover to secure the services of a male prostitute. I mean, c'mon!**

**Till then my fellow writers/readers!**


	40. Author's Note

**The Triquel to Red Shoes will be up sooner rather than later. I've been down with a bug so bear with me.**

**I have been nominated for an NCIS Fanfiction award (best crossover). I am trying to contain my excitement! The link is posted on my Profile page if you want to show your support. **

**Xoxo,**

**Alien09**


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